


Turner

by BlueMonkey, ThornyHedge



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, hobbit - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:11:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 76,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMonkey/pseuds/BlueMonkey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean joins the cast of <em>The Hobbit,</em> he discovers that some of his new cast mates are a little.... different.  How different?  Well, that remains to be seen.</p><p>(Based on a prompt by Ceema)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ceema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceema/gifts).



> This lovely prologue was written solely by BlueMonkey.

\-------

A wintry storm sweeps the willows of the hill, when he emerges. It's dark, somewhere not too far after witching hour. That means no one will see him when he sneaks out and makes sure he's far away from the mound before they start looking. The crescent moon above him peeks out from between rain clouds, and he stops for a moment to admire the corona that curls around the large silver blotches in the sky. If he didn't have a reason to be here, he would linger to enjoy the rain on his skin and maybe sing a song or two.

The nearest town is far away; the nearest city even farther. He's heard stories of it from travelers, so many of them, while he's never been allowed near one. Tonight, that is going to change. Fér waits for him around the hill, just behind a large lonely oak. He smiles at the ivory horse and pats her on her flank, before hopping on.

Men have told him of saddles, though he doesn't understand why a seat should be placed upon an animal. His hands latch into the mane and his legs have no trouble keeping him upon his mare without stirrups.

"Ride now," he whispers in a strange tongue that's lost to the world above the ground, and she runs like the wind and smooth as the mist.

Towns pass him by. A church bell tolls in the distance, keeping track of something that holds no meaning to him. Unlike the men under the sun, he does not age, and his skin does not wrinkle in a testimony of mortality. His amber eyes will always be amber, unmuddied and wild; his dark hair will grow longer and be cropped, whatever meets his fancy. His skin will forever be pale, he believes, for no fire but that of their own make lights the dark that lies underneath the grass.

It's near the outskirts of a city that he stops and leaves her behind. He feels disappointed when he looks upon the smoke and concrete. The stories are true, then; square buildings of stone and glass, they're unnatural and filthy. There's not a speck of green, and walls are painted in ugly writing, that make even the brick underneath a travesty.

He is ready to turn around, when he catches sight of a child. She is young, though he cannot guess her age—age means nothing to him and his people. She hurries to the streets and, for one moment, she looks his way as if she sees straight through him. Then she smiles, and it's strange and playful, and—knowing that, at least—he follows her footsteps.

She runs through, away from him but always waits when there's a certain space between them. He would tell her she doesn't need to worry, because he will keep up, but she asks him, "You're not from around here, are you?" and it's in a language he does not understand, so he knows she will not understand him either.

When he looks surprised, she just chuckles, "That's all right," and gestures for him to follow. She's different from the town girls that he's seen, because her clothes are not frayed and she looks like she's glowing. A teddy bear bungles from her hand, and a smattering of daisies is printed on the fabric of her coat. The city is still ugly an unattractive, but he likes the children of men and their merry ways, and she piques his amusement.

"Come on," she says, though he only hears syllables. "My big brother plays tonight. I'm running late. You should see." In a daring fit, she grabs his hand and looks him over. 

"You look funny, mister." 

"What do you mean?" he says in his own tongue.

Then she shrugs, because she doesn't understand and she doesn't care, and tugs the stranger along. They pass towering passageways the height of which trump many trees and an alley where music is heard—he smiles, because if nothing else, he understands that—but she pulls him along when he stops to listen to it. An old building draws up from its environment. She takes him round to the back, then up a metal construction that sends uncomfortable shivers own his spine for their artifice, and finally into a hallway that circles a theatre.

Other people sit on rows of chairs below them, and a stage has been erected that supports three men. Each wears grand costumes. He believes he recognizes the theme of one of them, because it strangely resembles his parents.

He wonders if that's how men see them; a thing from the past.

Though they are, and they will always be. His father and mother, who rule, forbid anyone from leaving the hills. And it's not their world any more either way, if this city is representative of the rest of the world above the ground. It used to be theirs. And they lost it.

It takes him awhile to understand what they're doing. Of course, he doesn't understand them, and he ponders upon the strange sounds and wonders what they mean for too long before he tries to look past them.

The girl sits next to him, her feet swaying over the edge of the hall.

In the dark of the theatre, he finally starts to see. They play a story. Sometimes, the men below them applaud, and he wishes they would stop, because he wants to see more of it. He doesn't know how it started, but he can quickly make out a man and a woman. Lovers, they must be. They sing with haunting, sad voices, whereas he only knows those of joy. In a dance, they spin around each other, yet they never meet.

He finds himself hoping they will.

He understands the cardboard ships, and he starts to grasp at the story. Soon, he feels a pain in his heart that he's never felt before. Alone in a city, far away from his own people, he smiles when the couple on the stage smile and he cries when they are torn apart. For a time, he forgets all about where he belongs.

When the curtain falls, he looks up and waits stubbornly for an hour because he doesn't understand it's ended. The girl has left him already. She tugged at his sleeve after ten minutes, and he did not move or acknowledge her. Five more minutes she tried. Then she said, "You must really like it," and skipped away.

His heart feels broken, but mended, but broken again. So many feelings course through him, feelings that he never knew he had.

When he reaches the outskirts and his mare again, two days later—which is nothing to him—he vows to return.

He vows to live among men and learn how to play the way they do.

Preparing for his return, he learns of the strange custom of last names. He does not have one, because he's never needed one. He would take that of his father, but when he proposes _Mac Abhean_ to one of his own who speaks the language of men and he receives laughter in return, he quickly learns it is archaic.

When he asks for a suggestion, the musician asks why he doesn't choose one which describes him. A lot of men have picked one that tells of their origin or their profession.

It's on a sunny afternoon, watching the leaves change color and fall, that he decides on _Turner._


	2. The Callback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean is called to Wellington to read again for _The Hobbit,_ he meets the unusual man who will play his brother on-screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aidan Turner written by BlueMonkey
> 
> Dean O'Gorman written by ThornyHedge
> 
> All other characters written willy-nilly.

\-------

_“Dean, this is Peter Jackson calling. We met last year when you auditioned for_ The Hobbit _. Production’s been underway for some time now, but we’ve had an actor leave the cast. I think you’d be right to fill the vacant part. Can you come down to Wellington and read again? Here’s my number….”_

As Dean drove his small blue convertible down the coast, he played the words on Jackson’s answering machine message over and over in his mind. Hell _yes_ he would drive to Wellington! He’d been so disappointed when he wasn’t chosen initially, but quickly buried it in his work on _The Almighty Johnsons._ The phone call reminded him that second chances do come… and he was about to have one. 

He arrived at Wingnut Studios at 10:45 a.m., fifteen minutes before he was to meet with Peter and a few of the principle actors for some reading. After security let him in, he followed the directions to Peter’s office. He arrived just in time. He was able to duck into a restroom, make sure he was put together, and was ushered upstairs by a lovely blonde woman named Jessica. 

“Mr. Jackson?” Jessica said, entering a room dominated by a large table surrounded by comfortable looking chairs. “Dean O’Gorman is here.” 

Thus, Dean wound up face to face with Peter Jackson and Aidan Turner. The latter was already made up and in costume. He recognized Aidan right away. He’d spent the past twenty four hours Googling every member of the principle cast. Aidan was young and extremely good looking, Dean thought, objectively. After shaking hands with Peter, he turned to Aidan. 

“Aidan here would be playing Kili, your younger brother,” Jackson told Dean. 

At the corner of the table, Aidan, who'd been playing with his ear absently, despite being very much alert, straightened himself to make a good first impression. Straight out of makeup, he looked very much the part of an otherworldly creature that had no business in the meeting room, but was amused by it all either way. "Hi," he broke into a grin that lit up his features and extended a hand to shake, "Nice to meet you, Dean." 

Informal off the bat, Aidan sat back and watched him with a twinkle in his eyes. 

"What's your vision about my brother?" he finally removed his hand from his ear, where it had returned immediately after the handshake, and ignored that it should be Peter asking those questions. 

“My-my vision?” Dean was taken aback by Aidan’s question, and shot Peter a quizzical look. _Answer the man,_ Jackson’s head nod implied. 

“Well, Peter only sent me one scene to read,” Dean explained quickly, “but I have read the book—and I have a kid brother myself. Fili is confident, respectful and quick to follow orders given by Thorin, and puts on all appearances of being a good little prince-in-training. But his brother brings out the devil in him. They get up to horrible shenanigans given the chance. But when there’s trouble, they are an unbeatable force. Best of friends. They even finish each other’s sentences.” He blushed and looked down at his toes. “At least, that’s my take on it.” 

Aidan nodded and turned his eyes on Peter and offered a knowing smile. He didn't say much aside from that, but plenty of things were hinted. _You let him read that scene at the door of Bag End, didn't you?'_ , and _What do you think?_ , as well as _Give him a chance, Peter_. He wasn't here to make the decision—Peter had called him in to see their chemistry. Though, truth be told, Aidan never had trouble with this thing man called chemistry. He charmed whomever he wanted to and assumed it just came naturally. 

And Peter seemed amenable. "Very well," he said, before shoving a ringbound script across the table and taking another sip from an oversized coffee mug. "How about we see how you two do together? I've got to check up on some things, so I'll give you five minutes to prepare the following scene. When I come back, I'd like to see how it goes." 

Aidan on the other hand just stayed seated. 

Dean sat down at the chair where Jackson had placed the script. “Do you know the scene he wants us to read? What can I do to improve my chances?” Somehow, Dean felt he would get an honest answer from the man sitting at the corner of the table. “I am _desperate_ for this part,” he confided, then mentally smacked himself for the admission. “That, and terribly, terribly nervous,” he blushed, pulling the notebook towards himself. 

He received little response for a while, for Aidan seemed more intent on studying his features with a tilted head, before snapping out of it and grinning. He seemed like a nice man, if a bit different. 

"Well, just be the best you can be. If he likes it, you're in. If you and I don't work well, he will find out eventually either way. There's no reason to pretend you're someone else. It's the scene with the stolen ponies, isn't it? He gave that scene to the others before you as well. Do you remember it from the book? If you do, let the script go for what it is. Improvise with me." 

"I'd feel better if I could read it," Dean told him. "I can improvise with the best of them," he clarified, "but I need a little something to go on." 

He only had four minutes left, so he briefly scanned the text Jackson had marked for him. 

"Really?" Dean said after 30 seconds. "How did those two not hear two giant trolls making off with two ponies right under their noses? Are we playing idiots?" 

"Well," Aidan leaned back, "why do you think they didn't notice?" 

But Dean was right, of course. Kili and Fili were big idiots. It was what had attracted Aidan to the role in the first place; it was a chance at playing silly while in a very serious production. And he liked to play silly. 

"Does it bother you?" 

Peter might be out of the room, but Aidan made himself a decent substitute. Dean had to convince him as much as he had to convince their director. Dean just didn't know it yet. 

"I think they didn't notice because Tolkien wanted to further the plot," Dean pouted. "And yes, it _does_ bother me," he admitted. "I don't want to play a stupid or neglectful character. Aren't we supposed to be princes?" He pushed his chair back from the table a bit. "I mean, they'd have to have been very distracted to miss a giant, lumbering troll carrying away two struggling, whinnying ponies, right?" 

He was losing points fast, and it showed. Aidan's smile wasn't as full as it was before, at the lack of imagination. 

"What could have happened for them to miss a giant, Dean?" 

"I-I don't know," Dean bit at his full lower lip. "I mean, it's not like they were making out or anything, right?" 

He raised his eyes to meet Aidan's brown ones. "They're _brothers,_ " he emphasized. When Aidan's gaze didn't pull away. "M-maybe they were just super, super tired and fell asleep," he offered lamely. 

"Mh, yes. They could have been." 

Aidan looked and sounded disappointed. He sat back and looked down at his own copy of the screenplay, leafing through it idly. This newcomer, regardless of how he spoke of Fili and his take on the character, lacked thoroughly in imagination. There was nothing that told him he was right for the job, and so Aidan lost interest. 

Dean could have gone for climbing a tree, or fighting, or Kili mocking Fili about something. He chose to go for super tired, and that kiss…well, that kiss would have been interesting, if it hadn't been asked in that kind of 'I don't know'-manner. 

So when Peter walked back into the room, Aidan didn't look quite motivated to begin their audition. 

Aidan, though he'd only known him five minutes, was already an enigma to Dean. _Why is he grilling me?_ Dean wondered. _Does he have any say in me getting this job?_ Then it dawned on him. Aidan must have liked the previous Fili a great deal and hated to see him go. 

"Listen, Aidan," Dean leaned conspiratorially across the table, "I understand that in the past three months of filming, you must have formed quite a bond with the other actor who played Fili. I'm not here to replace him," which he _was_. Dean realized after saying it how lame that sounded. "Not in your heart, at least," he added, which was even lamer. 

Aidan was wilting like a flower deprived of sunlight right in front of him. _What did I say?_ Dean wondered. 

_God, he hates me already._ He was sure his worry had to show on his face, and he tried valiantly to hide it when Peter returned. 

"Now then, lads," Peter clapped his hands together after he put down his coffee, "let's read and see how things transpire. I'll read Bilbo's part.” 

"I'll read Kili's," Aidan mused, which got him an easy laugh from Peter as though they'd been friends forever. He didn't have to pick up the script; by now he knew it by heart. Peter started with the first line. 

"What's the matter?" he read from the paper. 

Aidan got up and gestured for Dean to get up too. "Now, imagine the trolls went that way," he explained off-topic while pointing at the door behind Peter. Then he piped up, nervous and entirely different from his previous disinterest, "We're supposed to be looking out for the ponies…"

He didn't glance at Dean while he said it, though there was no denying that he was being watched by the Irishman. 

Dean realized that the mood Aidan had set with his apparent disdain actually helped him to get into the mood of the contrite dwarf heir. 

"Only, we've encountered a slight problem," Dean read, wrinkling his forehead in seeming confusion. 

"We had sixteen," Aidan said from his side of the table. 

"Now... there's fourteen," Dean lamented. He shot a furtive look at Aidan, trying to gauge the brunet's mood. 

So far, the man in full garb hadn't broken character. He wasn't about to do so now. This newling who looked the part still hadn't convinced him, like quite the number of applicants before him. He just wanted to be sure, although Peter definitely had his hopes up high. 

"Daisy and Jenny are missing," he intentionally screwed up the names to see how Dean handled changes. He hadn't proven himself improvisational yet, so this was his chance to redeem himself. 

All in all, Aidan wasn't cut out for finding new actors. He much rather liked to be on set, actually playing. Though he admitted that testing people was fun, too. 

Peter said his lines hardly convincingly, though he didn't have to. 

Dean was slowly unravelling. Not only was this Turner character messing with him. He was trying to _undermine_ him. 

"You little prat!" Dean, despite his size, was puffed up in his anger. He pointed an accusing finger at Aidan. "This is all his fault," he explained to 'Bilbo'. "Kili here decided to climb a tree to look out over the valley. He caught his belt on a branch and I had to help him down!" 

Aidan finally let on a flicker of a smile. The script forgotten, he huffed and said, "And who challenged me to get up in there? Don't pretend you weren't glad you didn't have to get up there yourself. Shall I tell uncle that?" Then, he raised a brow in challenge and folded his arms. "Not my fault the ponies are gone." 

“Ah, but I _did_ have to go up there… to untangle your belt from a tree branch,” Dean reminded him. “And just because I dared you to climb, didn’t mean you had to.” 

By now, Peter’s gaze was bouncing back and forth as if he were at Wimbledon. 

Kili kicked the imaginary dirt. “Fine. We’re still missing two ponies. What do we tell Thorin? He’ll be mad!” He turned to Peter and scrutinized him, as if thinking of a good purpose for their recently acquired fourteenth member. “Brother, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

Dean glanced down briefly at his script. “You are a burglar, after all, Mr. Baggins,” he acted as if he were plotting. “Perhaps you could burgle our ponies back from whomever stole them.” 

Peter spluttered. "You're saying they were stolen?" He wasn't as good at improvisation, but he visibly enjoyed playing along. If only they'd pulled Martin in, it would have been even better. 

At that moment, Aidan pretended he was massive and hulked in front of them, feigning to carry two horses under one arm each. He quickly scurried back to his spot when the troll passed, and stared up. "Mountain trolls! On you go, Mr. Baggins!" 

Dean finally felt the urge to smile again. Aidan acted as if this were the most fun adventure ever—even though the three of them were seated around a stuffy office room. 

“If you run into any trouble,” Dean cautioned Bilbo, “Hoot once like a barn owl, twice like a brown owl!” 

Aidan grinned, and made a sound that sounded nothing like any owl. He sat back and tapped the left screenplay on the desk. "I think Mr. Baggins should be off, and we reach the end of the dialogue between the brothers. Unless," he turned to Dean, "you'd like to show off how you look in a burlap sack?" 

Rhetorically asking, he sat back down and nodded to Peter, who knew enough. 

"We'll be in touch with you, Dean." 

“I—” he reached to shake Peter’s hand. “Thank you, Peter, for the second chance. It was, without a doubt, the most unusual callback I’ve ever been on.” He reached for Aidan’s hand. “Aidan,” he smiled, “it was a pleasure meeting you.” 

He was offered a formal bow that looked like Aidan was still half in character. "The pleasure's all mine, Mr. O'Gorman. I told you, nervousness is not necessary." He gave him a wink before expecting him to leave. 

Dean shot one more puzzled look at Peter, who seemed terribly amused at Aidan’s antics, then offered them both a small wave before departing. 

_What the hell just happened?_ he wondered to himself, walking out the front door into the bright sunshine and reaching for his car keys. 

He heard nothing for a day, though when the call came it was still sooner than expected. 

"Dean?" Peter said in his casual way, "If you're still available, I'd like to hire you." Because he already suspected the answer was going to be yes, there was no pause before he continued, "Could you come down tomorrow to handle the paperwork?" 

Dean stifled a cheer. “Yes, Peter. Absolutely. I can’t wait.” He had a feeling he’d only gotten the job because Aidan had said it was okay.


	3. Richard and Lee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets Aidan's "protectors," Richard and Lee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean O'Gorman and Martin Freeman written by ThornyHedge.
> 
> Lee Pace, Richard Armitage and Aidan Turner written by BlueMonkey.

\-------

Three days later at half past eight in the morning, Aidan sat up in a prop tree, one foot bungling off the edge in between takes, as his eyes caught sight of the newcomer. He grinned and threw a pebble down at Richard's coat.

"I've got a new brother, Uncle. How about that?"

Dean had thoroughly enjoyed the make-up process. The ladies were a delight and he had to admit, he liked the way he looked as Fili. The fat suit and platform boots were a bit daunting, but he was assured they’d help equalize his height among his taller cast mates.

The only person he recognized right away was Aidan—up a tree. He waved as he approached. “Hello, Aidan,” he smiled. “I wanted to thank you for putting in a good word for me.”

"Hi there, stranger!" Aidan called back jovially. "You're just in time to meet my family! This here below me is Richard. You can call him Armitage, and he'll listen too. And over there," he pointed at the Mirkwood throne, "That's Lee. Anyone else I can introduce, but I think they're still in makeup. You're early!"

He didn't get out of the tree, although he loved to balance it with his head resting on the branch dangerously.

“It’s nice to meet you, Richard,” Dean reached for the hand of the intensely blue-eyed man with menacing streaks of grey in his hair and beard. 

Richard had more sense of decorum than Aidan did. He reached out a hand to shake his and politely nodded. "Nice to meet you, Mr. O'Gorman. I've heard you'll be filling in the part of Fili? Aidan here's excited to have a new brother. He quite misses his lost brother, but I'm sure you'll get along fine."

"I can talk for myself," Aidan commented with a laugh. "I hear you, Richard."

"If I was hiding it from you, you wouldn't hear."

"Oh, really?" dared Aidan. "No secret's safe from me. I dare you."

Dean watched their exchange, a bemused smile on his face, then approached the tall languid blonde lounging on the throne. “Hello,” he held out a hand to Lee. “I’m the new Fili… Dean O’Gorman.”

The haughty elf broke into a genuine smile and lowered himself from his throne to shake his hand—completely different from the woodland king whom he portrayed. "So nice to meet you. Don't let Aidan scare you. He's young, you see."

Dean nodded, not sure exactly why he was agreeing. Lee didn’t seem so much older than Aidan. The contact lenses he was wearing, coupled with the long hair and costume, gave him and air of ethereal beauty that Dean found mesmerizing. He almost seemed to be glowing. He realized he was still holding Lee’s hand and pulled it away quickly. “Heh, sorry,” he apologized. “Your character has a haunting, beautiful look about him.”

"Charming your way into the inner circles already?" Richard chuckled unexpectedly, while Aidan chimed in, "Careful now. He's the enemy."

Lee wasn't perturbed, although a small twitch that he couldn't suppress gave away something awkward. "Come on," he slid off his chair with the same unearthly grace, "I will show you the crew. Since—" he shot them a glare, "—nobody else has shown the decency to."

They met a number of camera men and two dolly grips. Lee introduced him to Andy when he just strolled onto set, and Peter nodded at them when they passed.

"So Dean," Lee started, "He didn't misbehave badly during your audition, did he?"

“Aidan was… delightful,” Dean could say that now that Aidan’s unusual behavior hadn’t cost him the job. “We had fun with it. He is certainly a breath of fresh air.” 

"That he is." Even as Lee sauntered, he maintained the dignified stride of Elfkind. He said nothing until Dean began feeling uncomfortable, and then said, "You must not blame him if he makes you uncomfortable. Aidan is a bit...unruly sometimes. We try to make sure he doesn't get himself hurt."

Dean wrinkled his forehead. “Isn’t that what the stunt doubles are for?” he wondered. “Aidan doesn’t make me uncomfortable. He’s just unlike anyone I’ve met before.”

"That's not what I meant with hurt." For his laced words, Lee's expression remained benign. He sat back down in his chair when they'd done their rounds and folded his hands. "But yes. Unlike anyone you've met." He left it at that, not bothering with looking distant, but as soon as Aidan's eyes turned on them again, he cracked into a warm smile. "Now get to your brother. I believe he wants to show you the ropes."

True enough, Aidan looked like he was brimming with impatience.

Dean turned back to the brunet in the tree. Was everyone on this cast so unusual? He was beginning to think so. “Kili,” he smiled. “I understand you have much to teach me. I look forward to it.”

"Come on up," Aidan gestured. "Can you climb trees?"

“This tree,” Dean wondered. “Can it hold us both? I looks rather… flimsy.”

"Of course it will," Aidan cheered. "Besides, you're a Durin now."

———-

Having been among men for longer than ten years, Aidan liked to think he'd become adept at covering up anything about himself that could cause suspicion. Of course, the first months among people not his own had been awkward.

They had looked at him strangely whenever he walked around barefoot. It had taken him weeks to figure out that that was what they were so curious about, and then he'd forced himself gone to the shop, bought shoes that did not fit, had to return and the people behind the counter were so unkind and had so many rules that he wished he could call upon his father. His father's name meant nothing in the mortal realm however, and grudgingly he'd let the lady take his measurements. When she didn't make boots for him by his design but was forced to pick from a stock made for others, Aidan had felt so undignified.

He wriggled his large boots and patted them at the well crafted and realistic looking bark that nonetheless, like everything in this world, smelled like chemicals. 

"Uncle," he mused while he wriggled his shoulders further into the comfort of a fur-lined coat, "Play me a song."

The shooting was finished for the day, and they longed to linger. Aidan curled a finger in his hair and twirled absently. He yawned. No matter how many years he spent among men, he didn't expect he was ever going to lose that habit of sleeping during the day and waking at night, even if he forced himself to sleep at night and be awake during the day. He'd worked on the habit for centuries.

"Not here, Aidan," Richard leaned back lazily. "I don't have my instruments with me."

"Promise me you'll play for me later?"

"Of course."

Content, Aidan burrowed himself closer against Richard, both of them oversized dwarves, and let out a sigh. Above them hung a canopy of painted leaves. They reminded him of home, of the autumn trees over the hill of his ancestors. He missed it sometimes, though when he would return, he would be a visitor. It was no longer his home; that title belonged to a dingy place close to the great river and thankfully close to the edge of town, so that when things got too much for him—and they did—he could always escape and find solace there. It made him feel less locked up.

It was a dreadful place, but it was his own. He had hung it with plants and covered the floor with a rough carpet, because carpets reminded him of colored grass under his feet.

"Sing for me then?"

"Aidan."

"It's not much."

"Not now, Aidan."

"...Okay. Later."

They both watched Dean pass by, and resumed their silence.

Aidan didn't mind Dean. At first, he'd thought he was stiff. Which would have been a pity, because Dean definitely possessed the right looks for a dwarf. If dwarves existed. Goblins, certainly. But dwarves, and hobbits, and orcs...Aidan had had to keep silent and learn that they were creatures from a written world, though he kept wanting to butt in and state that such races did not exist. Besides, he was sure he wouldn't have gotten the part if he'd gotten too nosy about that.

But for what had to be a dwarf, Dean worked. Such disappointment had he found when the man turned out to be stiff and unimaginative. Thankfully he'd redeemed himself quickly enough, and gotten the role for it, but then he'd slipped back into his nice but boring self. Aidan couldn't stop looking at him to wonder if there was something there he hadn't noticed, something under the lines. He supposed he was looking because he wanted there to be something. He wanted to like him.

Dean didn't play an instrument. He didn't sing, although he laughed quite nicely. He certainly didn't do things out of the ordinary. Aidan assumed he wanted to like him because he played his brother. He couldn't think of another reason.

——-

Days passed. Dean found his rhythm as Fili. He’d worked with a few of the cast before, so he had a few friends to speak with. He found himself starting to get on well with Adam Brown as well. But Aidan… well, the brunet remained a mystery, as did Richard and Lee.

One evening at dinner, Dean sat by himself in a corner. He’d brought a sketch pad with him and found himself sketching a profile of Richard and Lee as they drank tea together. As he watched and sketched, he wondered what it might be like to sketch Aidan. Of course, he’d never sit still that long, Dean surmised, smiling softly.

Funny enough, it was that same night when the opportunity was chanced upon him.

The lights in the pub were dim, and the wooden floors just wiped clean from the weekend drinkers who'd spilled their gallons of beer. It was when the place smelled cleanest, and was quietest, that they liked to come there. Not the best surroundings to be drawing, to be sure, but there could be worse.

Aidan had crawled against Richard and snugly had him drape an arm over his shoulder so he could settle his back better against his flank. For the last ten minutes, his eyes had been falling shut and opening up alertly again. Until they stopped, and his breath finally evened out. Richard brushed a hand through his hair fondly.

Dean, sitting at the next table with Martin Freeman, reached into his satchel and pulled out his sketch pad and some charcoal. For a moment, he couldn’t even begin drawing, so intrigued was he by the sight of Aidan so still and calm. But he began putting the scene on paper, fingers tracing the shape of Aidan’s lips, pursed in sleep and his soft curls. Occasionally Aidan’s forehead would wrinkle, as if, even in slumber, he was thinking up new shenanigans. 

Martin brought over another round and sat next to him in wonder, watching the drawing unfold. Richard’s blue eyes lifted to Dean’s. For a brief second, fierce protectiveness flashed through them, but it turned to a soft smile so quickly that Dean was sure he must have misunderstood.

Using the smudge tool to soften the lines of Aidan’s cheekbones, Dean imagined his hands touching Aidan in that very spot. Would he like it? Would he laugh? Would he lash out? He didn’t know if it was the lager or the lighting, but suddenly, instead of simply attractive, he was finding Aidan Turner to be beautiful.

For a long while, he was given free reign. It was near the end of his sketch that Aidan frowned and shifted, squirming himself around on the cramped space of the bench until he lay facing the wall. "Mh," he muttered, sleep-drowsy, when he felt himself slipping from the space and pulled himself up again. "Richard, help me a little."

Richard glanced at Dean before quite easily shifting Aidan back up on the bench in an act that seemed almost intimate and definitely exceeded friendship. Richard raised a mellow eyebrow at Dean.

Then, Dean _got it._ And it hit him like a proverbial ton of bricks. Richard and Aidan were _together._ What Dean had confused with friendly cast mate bonding, was much more than that. It was obvious, and he was an idiot.

“I-I should get back to my trailer, Martin,” he told his friend, rapidly downing his third lager. He shoved his sketch pad and charcoal kit into the satchel, flushed in shame at the thoughts he had been thinking about Aidan. “Goodnight,” he muttered. In his haste to leave, and not watching where he was going, he ran smack into Lee on his way to the door.

“I’m sorry,” he blushed, trying to push past the taller man. 

"Whoa," Lee took one look at him and decided that Dean wasn't going anywhere. He grabbed him by his shoulders and inspected him. When people ran into him in such a hurry, he knew there to be trouble. "Where are you going? Are you okay?"

“I-I need some air, Lee,” he explained. “Need to go outside, please,” he insisted. “You can come with me if you like…but I need to get out of here.”

That would have told any stranger enough, and Lee did not consider himself to be one. He nodded, then led the way. Outside, he lit himself a smoke and offered Dean one. "So..." he started. "It's still early. You don't seem to be drunk." So he couldn't have fucked up badly. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Dean wasn’t a smoker, but he accepted the cigarette out of politeness. He sank into a bench around the corner from the pub, out of sight of the door and signaled for Lee to join him. “I have been pretty blind,” he told Lee, watching the tip of his cigarette smolder. “I—uh—misinterpreted the relationship between Aidan and Richard. I feel like an idiot.”

An uncomfortable silence dropped. When Dean looked up, Lee was watching him with a tilted head, as if trying to decide something. "You know," he snapped out of it when he noticed, "I don't believe I understand. Why would anything between Richard and Aidan make you feel like an idiot?" He dismissed it with a gesture. "Other people don't feel like an idiot. At least, not that I'm aware of."

“Since I have come to Wellington, specifically to this cast, I have felt like an idiot pretty much 24/7,” Dean admitted. “At my second audition, Peter left me alone in a conference room with Aidan, like he was trying to shake me up. Aidan is… well, he’s unflappable. Nothing shakes him. It’s like he has this inner sense of calm and he’s fearless. And tonight,” Dean buried his face in his hands. “Ugh.”

"Tonight?" Lee urged him. He awkwardly patted the other on the back and tried to soothe him, but as amiable as he was aware he looked—people had come to him for inspirational words and _It'll be all right_ for as long as he could remember—he had no idea what to do.

“They’re a couple, aren’t they?” Dean finally blurted out. “I thought it was just friendship, but tonight they were so obviously _together,_ ” he sighed. “How did I miss it before?” 

A sigh, and Lee sat back. "...Again," he said, "Why does this make you feel like an idiot?"

“I was starting to,” Dean paused, assessing Lee for a moment to make sure he was the right person to share this with, “have _feelings_ for Aidan.”

Lee tensed. His jaw clenched and his hand made fists for a very short time. But Dean didn't notice, and he forced himself to calm down. He could live with a number of answers, but he could not allow that. Taking a deep drag off the cigarette—not quite his thing either, but it helped with his image—he tapped the ash off the edge of the bench. "I see. But if you're only starting to, I don't think you're an idiot, Dean. They don't really advertise it. You couldn't have known."

“Thank you for clearing that up for me, Lee,” Dean seemed more visibly relaxed. “I just felt like I’d connected with Aidan, but I guess it was just his nature. He’s so _open,_ ” Dean smiled. “Almost child-like sometimes. Don’t you think?” 

"Terribly," Lee's easy-going nature gave way for one that was more reminiscent of family, as he sighed and butted out his cancer stick. "I suppose that could be attractive. I just never looked at him that way. Like he said, we're almost family, it'd be strange." He nudged Dean's shoulder. "Don't feel stupid. I'm sure you'll find someone else who knows how to handle you just right."

Dean chuckled. “ _Handle_ me?” he scoffed. “I’m hardly a challenge. At least, I don’t think so.” He locked eyes with Lee. “You’ve known me three weeks. Do you think I’m challenging?”

Lee shrugged. "I rather meant, handle you in the way someone who's more mature than Aidan knows how to treat you, make you feel special. That's not the same as saying you're challenging. Although," he leaned closer, "You make it sound like a bad thing, though I wonder if being considered easy instead is more flattering."

“Oh,” Dean reconsidered. “Well, I’m not easy either,” he told the taller man. His cigarette had finally burned itself out and he crushed it out in a nearby ashcan. “Sorry for wasting your cigarette,” he said, turning back to Lee. “Long day tomorrow, for all of us. I should get going.”

He got to six feet away from him, before Lee leaned back on his arms and mused, "When's the last time you've been handled well, Dean?"

Dean stopped in his tracks. “Lee,” he turned and told him, blue eyes large. “It has been far, _far_ too long.”


	4. Only a Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee works a little magic on Dean.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains elements that may be viewed as dub-con.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lee Pace written by BlueMonkey
> 
> Dean O'Gorman written by ThornyHedge

\- - - - -

He wasn't granted with a look of sympathy. Rather, Lee nodded and smiled. He did not move, and a pleasant breeze stirred his hair while he enjoyed the seat. None of the others had seen him yet, so he wasn't too concerned that they were getting worried for his long absence. He did wonder why nobody else had followed Dean out.

"Sounds to me like you need someone to get your thoughts back in order," he offered. "Drop by sometime when you want to...talk."

Dean swallowed around a throat that had suddenly grown far too tight. This was an unexpected development. And he _liked_ Lee, he truly did. He just wasn’t sure hooking up with a co-worker so early in the game would be a good idea. But the more he looked back at Lee, languidly just waiting there, as if he assumed Dean wanted him, _made_ Dean want him. Which was crazy, right? 

“I like you a lot, Lee,” Dean stressed, walking back to where Lee was sitting. “And I know I’m probably going to really, really regret this, but I’m going to have to take a rain check on that…talk,” he smiled gently, and leaned down to kiss him chastely on the mouth. “Please don’t think this is me brushing you off,” he assured Lee.

"I said sometime." But Lee leaned up and turned it into a decent kiss, one that he would have to brag to one or two people—currently sleeping and being slept on in the cafe—about. His lips parted with a sigh and while it was just lips, he added plenty of promise to a nip at Dean's lower lip. "There is no hurry."

He waited for Dean to respond to it, like he knew he would.

Lee’s kiss, while hardly improper or salacious, caused a definite reaction in Dean. He literally felt like a warm, comfortable fluid were working its way through his veins, leaving tingles in its wake. It didn’t take long for the feeling to reach his cock. “Lee,” he gasped standing up abruptly. “I—wow,” he breathed, pupils blown with lust. “Just… wow. I-I suppose we could have that ‘talk’ now, if you wanted.”

"Are you sure?"

But of course Dean was sure. Lee knew it with a surety that rivaled his own existence. For propriety's sake he pretended to be surprised. Soon, that was forgotten in favor of getting up and straightening Dean's jacket affectionately. "I'll arrange for a taxi."

“You’d better tell them to hurry,” Dean could not control the hands that lifted themselves from his sides to Lee’s waist, nor the mouth that strained to kiss up Lee’s shoulder and around his neck, seeking out those intoxicating lips again. When he latched on this time, he pulled Lee in close, pushing up on his toes and seeking entrance to Lee’s mouth with his tongue. “I suddenly want you very much.”

Denying him his kiss, Lee did wrap an arm around Dean's waist. "We could get a room nearby, but I'm sure that'll make the others talk. Patience. I'm not going anywhere." He picked out his cell phone and called for a taxi, which arrived thankfully quickly.

The ride back to their accommodations took forever. Throughout the ride, Lee did his best not to let the driver in on what was going down between them. Yet he still let his hands dart out, creep under Dean's jacket and run lines across feverish skin. He wasn't lying; Dean truly was receptive. "Almost there," he whispered.

When they finally were, Lee surrendered all control to Dean.

When the door to Lee’s trailer closed behind them, Dean pounced. He pushed Lee against the wall with such force that the trailer rocked on its axels. When he realized that because of his height, he couldn’t truly kiss Lee in the way he wanted to. He ripped at Lee’s shirt and pulled it open with such zeal that buttons went flying. He pulled Lee into his arms, enjoying the warm feel of flesh under his. “Bed?” he asked. “Lee, will you come to bed with me?”

The taller man nodded in assent and Dean took his hand and pulled him towards the trailer’s small bedroom. There, he quickly pulled his baseball shirt up over his head and pushed Lee down onto his back on the bed and straddled his hips, rubbing their denim clad cocks together. Now he could finally kiss Lee again properly.

Dean leaned over the brunet and slotted their mouths together, fingers tangling in Lee’s tousled locks. “My god,” Dean gasped, when he pulled away, breathless, “your kisses are hypnotic, Lee.”

"Yeah?" came the breathy response. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?" People didn't usually manhandle Lee this much. Even with the intoxication of his kiss working under their skin, most of the people he'd come to share his bed with over the years had been fairly submissive, wanting him to do a wide range of things to them. It got boring after a while, which was why he hadn't done this for a too-long amount of time. "You want those kisses somewhere else, or will you test how hypnotic your own tongue can be around me?"

With no shame, he raised his hips up and pushed his own pants off, before spreading his legs deliciously. Bringing up his arms above his head, Lee all but writhed on the bed without more than a kiss on him. "I think I'd like you to try."

Lee was tall and his cock was beautifully proportional to his height, jutting out from a nest of dark curls. A voice inside Dean’s head kept telling him to stop and go home, but the desire coursing through his body bade him to keep going. He wanted him to suck Lee’s cock until it was wet and glistening, then fuck himself on it until he came. He literally felt an insatiable burn inside of him—like an animal in heat—and that itch was aching to be scratched.

Dean kissed his way down Lee’s toned chest, and when he reached the vee between his legs, deeply inhaled the musky scent of arousal there. It was like a steak dinner, birthday cake and new car smell all rolled into one. Dean had to have Lee, and _now._

He took Lee’s long, curved cock into his mouth and down into his throat in one slow, steady movement, one hand grasping Lee’s hip and the other toying with the man’s testicles.

Dean pulled his mouth away from Lee's cock to ask, "Do you have any lube?"

When Lee waved a vague hand in the direction of the bedside table, Dean sent in search, finding a bottle of Gun Oil. Before settling back between Lee's thighs, he had to have another kiss, which turned into a five-minute make out session.

Dean felt like he could have come from kissing Lee alone, but that's not how he wanted to come. "Want to _impale_ myself on you, Lee," he told him, pupils blown so wide little of the blue showed. He liberally coated Lee's cock with the smooth liquid, then stuck a finger inside himself, eyes never leaving Lee's face. "Want to ride you," he confided. "Ride you so hard we both walk funny tomorrow."

Dean straddled Lee's slim hips again, one hand pinning down the larger man's chest, and guided Lee into his own tight channel. The look of pain on Dean's face indicated that it had been some time since he'd done this, but the blond was determined—and inexplicably horny. He lowered himself inch by inch onto Lee's gorgeous cock until he was fully seated. 

Then, he leaned forward for more kisses, as if he'd need them to keep going.

Lee offered generously, although it proved difficult. Dean was so fucking tight, and had poorly prepared himself, so the onslaught of his walls clenching around Lee's cock were almost unbearable. This man was going to hurt himself and they'd be awkward around each other in the morning, he knew it. Men were so passionate and they gave with abandon; so unlike himself. Lee knew the pleasures of the flesh well, but he had a hard time surrendering to it.

Even if Dean looked and felt absolutely gorgeous, straddling him.

When their lips pulled away, Lee coated his thumb languidly with saliva, his eyes falling shut while soft mewls spilled from his throat, and then pushed the digit between Dean's lips, scraping over his tongue.

Part of him wondered what it'd be like if he could fuck his companion's mouth with fingers alone.

His other hand reached out for Dean's neglected prick and circled it with his nail leisurely. 

Dean planted one hand firmly on Lee’s shoulder, even though he knew it would probably bruise the man. The other he wrapped around the wrist of the hand in his mouth. He sucked Lee’s thumb like a lollipop, pulling the digit to the hilt into his hot mouth. 

The blond felt himself loosening up further, almost as if he’d been given some sort of drug—which he hadn’t, of course, unless Martin has slipped a roofie into his beer. He was apparently far more attracted to Lee than he initially realized. On some bizarre chemical level. He chuckled around the thumb, pushing the thought away, and started slowly rising and falling on Lee’s cock. 

When he found the angle that grazed his prostate, he was finally able to ease the burning ache inside. He cried out around Lee’s thumb, not willing to get rid of it. He loved the pressure of it on his tongue and was using his own suction on the digit to draw himself closer to Lee.

Lee had only a light pressure on his dick, but he didn’t need it. He felt as if he could come just from this. 

"Go on, little one."

Enthralled by the enthusiasm, Lee stared up through heavy eyelids and pleasure-hazed irises. Something animalistic and yet incredibly sophisticated allowed itself to be pushed to the foreground, giving him the air of a being ethereal. "Take me. Take all of me."

_And forget about Aidan._

_This, this is what you want._

Lee had to do nothing but encourage him, although his skin was starting to slicken with sweat and precome that he milked from Dean's slit with his thumb and then smeared across his own abdomen. Once he couldn't hold it and thrust up, caring nothing about whether he hurt Dean or not. In his state, the man on top of him was defenseless. Lee could do anything that he wanted. He let his head fall back.

"Oh, I am going to do this with you all night," Lee said.

And with those words, coupled with the sensation of being full at both ends, Dean came. He could have sworn, if only for the briefest of moments, that he was staring into Thranduil’s eyes, instead of Lee’s.

He felt the prone actor shudder as he came beneath him, and at that moment, Dean felt a pang of incredible regret about what he was doing. He’d just met Lee. He wasn’t even sure he liked him all that much. They hadn’t even used a condom! But the doubt went away as quickly as it surfaced when Lee kissed him again.

There was no such thing as giving his body rest that night. Whenever Dean felt like he couldn't go on, that he was entirely spent, Lee would kiss him and an insatiable lust would return to him, convincing him that he could. Three times, and not a drop within him left; that's when he collapsed and Lee stopped kissing him, allowing him to breathe again.

By that time, the clock had struck four in the morning and both were covered in bite marks, their energy levels fully depleted and in dire need of a shower. 

They were going to get shit for this in a few hours.

"Thank you," Lee smiled down at his exhausted bed partner. "I needed that."

An annoying buzzing in his ear woke Dean all too soon. He cracked open one eye, feeling extremely hungover, although he’d only had three beers with Martin. After that he’d—Dean opened both eyes and sat up slowly. He was alone in Lee’s bed. Blearily, he leaned over, switching off the incessant alarm. His head was throbbing.

The sheets were a mess and his clothing was everywhere. _God,_ he thought to himself, _what did we do?_ But a deep ache in a certain part of his body served as a tangible reminder. 

Lee seemed to have already left.

He rushed to the bathroom, when he noticed the clock said he was due in make-up in 10 minutes. His chest and neck were covered with hickeys and what appeared to be teeth marks. _Oh, hell no,_ Dean lamented. _Make-up is going to have a field day with this._ Then, he noticed the pink and red tinged trail running down his legs. 

He knew he was going to be a little late that morning.


	5. Badges of Shame and Impulsivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the light of day, Dean is ashamed of what he did last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lee Page, Richard Armitage and Aidan Turner written by Blue Monkey
> 
> Dean O'Gorman written by ThornyHedge

\-------

When Dean finally reached the sound stage, Lee was already there. There were no marks on his body, no evidence of what had gone on between them that night. "Good morning, sleepyhead," Lee nodded with amusement, and continued on with his talk with a technician. Nothing on Lee could tell anyone he suffered from lack of sleep due to long and thorough sex. It could be make-up fixing up his mistakes, but Dean hadn't heard anything that suggested someone from make-up connected the dots between his marks and those on Lee.

Aidan passed him by from behind and nudged him with that ever-present smile. "You look terrible, Deano."

“Mm, yeah,” Dean said, stifling a yawn. “I imagine I do. I had some trouble sleeping,” he explained. “Unlike you,” he noted, and reminded himself to show Aidan the sketch he’d done of Aidan sleeping in the pub. “Here’s hoping today goes by quickly,” he muttered.

Aidan shrugged good-naturedly. He peered closer, scrutinizing him, and grinned. "Well, even if you didn't get much sleep, I'm sure it must have been good. Lucy has done a valiant job, but..." He shrugged again, before patting him on the shoulder and skipping ahead towards Richard, where he leaned his chin on the man's shoulder and nuzzled into the mane. 

Dean wished the floor could just reach up and devour him. He wondered how long it would take for word of—whatever—had happened the previous night to get around the set. Dean looked over at Lee, looking fresh as a goddamn daisy, and after… but as Dean tried to piece together everything that had happened the night before, he found it harder and harder to remember details. _Had_ he been drugged? 

Dean prayed the day would go quickly so he could slink back to his trailer and sleep.

Nobody told anyone though. Aidan occasionally looked at Dean funnily in between takes—and during takes—as though he hadn't thought Dean to be a sexual creature and was now looking at him in a different light. A light that was damn distracting to both of them. But Aidan didn't open his mouth. He didn't tell Richard and he gave no signs to show that he knew it was Lee.

And Aidan didn't know. Lee was back to his usual manners and nothing tipped anything off. The times he and Dean got close, he acted nothing but cordial.

That's when lunch rolled around and they were expected to share lunch together, like they usually did.

"If you're going to eat all that," Aidan looked down on his plate, "you're going to drop dead sleeping. Trust me, I know."

“I suppose you’re right,” Dean conceded. “I’m just so exhausted, Aidan. We have about forty-five minutes right now, don’t we? Maybe I could go grab a little cat nap. Would you wake me?” Dean’s eyes, complete with dark circles underneath, pleaded with him. “Just come to my trailer at 1 o’clock and wake me? I’d owe you one.”

"That's what friends are for," Aidan smiled. "I'll save you some food for when you're back. Give me your plate." He frowned. "It'll be cold though."

He thought for a while.

"You could eat first and sleep here. I do it all the time. Richard's an excellent pillow. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Dean chuckled at the thought. “I’m sure he’s a wonderful pillow, Aidan, but he’s _your_ pillow. I have two back at my trailer beckoning to me quite hard right now. And don’t worry about the food. I’ll eat this evening,” Dean rose and left for his trailer. “One o’clock,” he locked eyes with Aidan. “Please, don’t forget.”

Aidan looked at him oddly when Dean got up. "He's not—" he started, but opted to end there. Dean clearly wanted to sleep in his trailer. Pushing some peas around on his plate, Aidan nodded.

"One o'clock. Now go, before I decide you need more time and will just let you sleep until four."

Because he would do that. Or wake him up in fifteen minutes time. Dean looked funny when he lacked sleep.

When Aidan came to fetch Dean at 1 p.m., the blond really didn’t want to get out of bed. He ached all over and was still exhausted, although the nap had refreshed him to a certain degree. 

Aidan began smoothing down his mussed wig when he exited his trailer, and Dean smiled. “Thanks, Aid,” he yawned, “for waking me on time.” He stilled Aidan’s fussing fingers. “I’ve got this,” he told the brunet. 

"Yes, but you're sleepy," Aidan returned. His hands continued to straighten the wig and tidy up his costume. "Don't worry, some people asked but you didn't miss out on anything. Though Martin did ask if anyone knew where you went after you left. I didn't know you left early." He laughed sheepishly. "I guess I was too distracted sleeping again, wasn't I?" He yawned. "I could have used a nap myself."

For someone sleepy, he jumped up quite chipper as soon as Dean's costume looked decent, and patted his shoulder to wipe off the last dust—which there wasn't.

"Come on," Aidan tugged his hand, "We should go."

Dean followed along behind him, slightly dazed, as always, with Aidan’s constant stream of energy, even when he claimed to be tired. When they arrived on the set, Lee raised one nearly disinterested eyebrow at the pair. Dean felt a small burst of near loathing shoot through him, but he had no idea why. 

He followed a smiling Aidan to their mark to begin the afternoon’s filming.

They frequently ran into each other during the takes that followed. Aidan was a physical kind of person, and he cared about his friends, or at least keeping them awake to make sure they didn't get into trouble. That meant he frequently prodded Dean when he thought he was close to falling asleep, and stood in front of him to cover his ass when Peter looked their way and Dean was swaying on the spot.

Aidan didn't usually single people out, but he kept gravitating back to Dean because he thought the sleepy man was funny. Seeing him groan when he was pulled back awake again made Aidan smile. Adam joined in for some time, but he was rather the observing party, egging Aidan further on with his peels of laughter instead of participating himself.

If Richard kept watching them, Aidan did not notice it. He laughed when he managed to splash water onto Dean and saw him startle awake once again.

"I'm sorry," Aidan still hiccoughed, "You have to admit it's just so easy today."

Dean couldn’t decide if he was grateful for Aidan’s behavior, or irritated beyond belief. But, Aidan had helped him catch a nap earlier, so he opted to be grateful and smile along with Aidan’s antics. Not knowing what Aidan might do next certainly kept him on his toes, and Dean vowed to get a good night’s sleep.

Nothing would keep him from it.

Nobody did, either. Because half an hour later, Aidan decided to take a different approach. He stopped poking him, stopped keeping him awake, and while he did shield him from anyone of the crew so that he wouldn't get into a world of trouble, Aidan actually rather started to encourage him falling asleep.

When Dean didn't cooperate, Aidan sat next to him in breaks and started faking yawns.

“Aidan,” Dean finally called him on it at 4 p.m., “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to _make_ me fall asleep.” He nudged the taller man with his shoulder. “I’m doing quite fine on my own, here.” 

Though dead on his feet, Dean still found wonder in Aidan’s delight in his predicament.

"Maybe," Aidan feigned innocence. He faked another big yawn, knowing it to be contagious. He'd gotten people to fall asleep on him just by doing that, if the right conditions were there. Dean, being as sleepy as he was, met his requirements and surpassed them. "Your blood must be thick with coffee by now. How are you still standing? Besides," he reasoned as he pointedly ignored Adam looking at them funnily, "I could use a nap as well, and Richard's busy."

“Aidan, we can’t!” Dean found himself yawning hugely. “We’re supposed to be filming. I don’t want to get in trouble… do you?” the idea of just sitting down, back against a fake tree, and dozing off was looking better and better.

Aidan shrugged. "Oh, it's a nice thought, isn't it?" He nudged a fist against Dean's shoulder and conspiratorially leaned closer. "Lee's a bit out of it today. I thought about sleeping against him if I'd get the chance to, but he keeps busying himself with things." By the looks of it, Dean was genuinely bothered by that.

“Do you _sleep against_ many of your co-workers, Aidan?” the blonde wondered. By now, Dean was more than a little confused, and way more than a little tired.

"A few." Aidan didn't see any problems with it. "Richard's usually the victim though. He just can't say no. But Lee's comfortable, when he allows it, and most of the others are fine too. I don't know if you're comfortable yet, now do I?"

Realization dawned. “Oh, as a _pillow_?” Dean was suddenly very relieved. “I might be a bit small for you to use as a pillow, Aidan.” Just the use of the word pillow made him long for his own. “But, I suppose we could find out. Is there a spot here you think would be good for sleeping?” the blond asked, which of course, set him to yawning again.

In the bustle of the set, Aidan's laugh still drew a few sets of eyes. "Against people," he said, "but you're right, maybe later." He fondly tousled Dean's hair and offered a warm smile. "I can see I'm making you uncomfortable. Don't mention it, I'll borrow Richard when he's got time." He got up on his feet.

"Right, brother of mine," he bowed theatrically, "Let's do our best and finish soon, so we can get that sleep."

Dean hefted his swords in consternation and put them into their sheaths. Was he ever going to understand Aidan? He wanted desperately to bond with this man portraying his brother, but it was almost as if he were from another planet. The idea of Aidan being an alien made him smile, and he followed him towards the sound of Peter Jackson’s voice.

\-------

It was around seven, this close to wrapping up for the day and with the lights on set burning down on them, that Aidan leaned his cheek against Richard's shoulder and his eyes grew heavier. Throughout the day he'd managed to stay awake; now, with his reserves depleted, he sighed out and snuggled into the heavy leather and fur.

His eyes involuntarily skitted over the crowd and found what they were looking for. Content, he closed his eyes, before he frowned, not sure why it would make him content.

"Mh, Rich?" he murmured. "Carry me home when we're done?"

Dean eyed the pair jealously—although he wasn't sure if he was jealous of Richard, for being able to snuggle up to Aidan, or if he were jealous of Aidan, for being able to act to freely and simply _sleep_. 

Either way, Dean was desperate to get to make-up, get de-Fili'd, grab a sandwich and go to bed. Or, maybe he'd just skip the food and go directly to bed. He gave Richard, Aidan and Lee wide berth as he left the sound stage, eyes on the prize.

Unfortunately for Dean, people had other plans with him. When he finally got out of make-up and had his sandwich, the entrance of his door was blocked by a lone figure smoking a cigarette. He didn't plan to look like he wanted to blend in, but Lee did regardless as if it was a natural talent. As soon as he heard the footsteps, Lee raised his head and took a deep draft.

"Dean," he smiled. Even in the dark, the marks on his skin stood out starkly as dark patches on otherwise unblemished skin. "Can we talk?"

By the time the end of the day rolled around, Dean couldn't even remember _why_ he wanted to avoid Lee... just that he really hoped to. But he wasn't to be so fortunate. Even when the girls in Make-up removed his foundation, chiding him about the love bites and hickeys, he couldn't quite remember where they'd come from, and he was too tired to fabricate a story.

"Lee," he observed, in a slightly resigned tone. "How did your day go?" He really wished Lee would move out of his way so he could get some sleep.

Much in the way Thranduil would, Lee inclined his head. He raised his arm and bunched his sleeve up to reveal more patches of red. Bags under his eyes that weren't visible before, were visible now. Nothing about him looked as impeccable as it had done during the day. Then he chuckled. "Tired, if you believe me. But I'm sure you do."

Pushing himself off the door, he walked closer. There was nobody around to see their exchange, but he kept a respectable distance nonetheless.

"You've been uncomfortable over what we did, haven't you?" 

"To be honest, Lee," Dean admitted, "today has been so surreal. I must be crazy tired, because my memory is messing with me. I-I keep forgetting what we did last night. I have little flashes. Are those bites.... did I do that?" he asked, feeling terribly guilty.

Lee looked up guiltily. "I believe I left you quite a few on your legs. I remember them clearly." It was information nobody else could have known, unless Dean had told someone. "...Look, unless you're okay with someone overhearing, and something tells me you'd rather not, I think we'd better go inside. I don't think anyone noticed my marks, but you, Dean, you've quite stood out today. The ladies from Make-up haven't been able to shut up about it." He gestured to the door.

Dean grudgingly ushered Lee inside. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

"Water's fine, thank you." Lee smiled. He had come with a purpose, because there was purpose behind everything he did. He sat down on the makeshift couch and relaxed into the cushions. With mild curiosity he looked around the trailer to see what the interior said of Dean. "Sorry," he apologised halfway through, "I don't believe I've been in your trailer before. There's some interesting pictures on your wall."

The monochrome cards were populated with smiling people, most of them in during typical summer occasions; a visit to the beach, or a barbeque. "They your family?" he pointed out one of an elderly couple with warm expressions that brought out the wrinkes around their eyes in a way that had never been possible to Lee.

"Yes," Dean answered Lee's question, handing him a plastic bottle of water. "That's my grandparents, taken last year at the beach. I have a passion for photography, I guess you could say," he added.

At last Lee folded his hands around his knees. "So. About last night."

"Last night was...," Dean begin, sitting down at the other end of the couch, "very out of the ordinary for me. I am not the kind of person who just _does that._ Sleeps around so capriciously," he clarified. "I know this sounds ridiculous," he blushed, "but I literally don't know what came over me."

"Well, you were quite—" Lee scratched his ear with a smile, "— _wild_. I didn't really mean for what I offered—you do remember what I offered don't you?"

"You said," Dean swallowed audibly, "that you wanted to do it all night. And, I think we nearly did." He couldn't meet Lee's eyes. "I'm so sorry about the bites. I don't... I've never bitten anyone before. I—I can't believe I did that."

"Oh, don't worry." Lee felt relieved. "Actually, I found that rather enjoyable. No, I mean where I offered to, um, handle you right. Some time. I didn't really expect you to mean straight away, and I worried we might have rushed things we weren't ready for. So I'm here to, well, check if you were. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you that much today. I meant it to be just an occasional thing, and you seemed so out of it."

Lee tried for an apologetic look. It looked only half convincing, though not ill-intended. "I didn't want people to think we're seeing each other. Or you."

"It would seem," Dean chose his words carefully, "that you _handled_ me just fine. I seem to remember having an enjoyable time. U-unless we have a different understanding about what the term means. I had fun, Lee," _I think,_ "but yeah, I was exhausted today. Still am. I'm not a kid anymore, I guess. Can't be pulling all night marathon sex sessions and then work all day. I was rude and cranky," he admitted. 

"I'm just really angry at myself for being so forward," he continued. "I mean, we barely know one another."

Lee propped his head up on his hand. He eyed the photographs again. They were really well done, the lighting just right and the shadows deep without overcasting the highlights. "That's good. I was concerned about that when I saw you today. I mean, I had a great time, and I'd love to do it again if you feel the need to—" he phrased tentatively, "—blow off steam, so to speak. But it's no proposition for anything more. Like you said, we barely know each other."

Taking a sip, Lee did his best to patch up the rough start they'd gotten. "I don't regret anything though. You were _very_ hot."

Dean gasped and choked a bit on his Diet Coke. "That's very nice of you to say, Lee. I—," he paused, as if trying to figure out how to ask his question, then continued. "Did you _give_ me something?" he finally blurted out. "Some sort of, I don't know, aphrodisiac?" 

He instantly regretted asking, but it was gnawing at him. The spreading warmth in his veins—the insatiable itch inside him that needed to be scratched. He'd never felt that before. And Lee, if he was honest with himself, just wasn't his type. He suspected Lee had done something, but he was still ashamed to ask him.

Entirely at ease with what he'd just said, Lee mused, "If you consider my kiss to be an aphrodisiac. Which, I must say, would be one of the best compliments. But no, I didn't spike a drink or slip you a pill. So that's why..."

He sat back and looked aback.

"Well, three times makes sense now. Oh god, you wanted it, right? I didn't do anything you weren't comfortable with to you, did I?"

Dean wasn't sure how to answer. Yes, he'd wanted it. Wanted it so badly, he thought he might go mad if Lee would have denied him. At, least, that's how he'd felt last evening. Today, he wasn't as certain. He was glad Lee couldn't read minds.

When he finally figured out what he wanted to say to Lee, this is what came out. "I was desperate for it, Lee. So desperate it scared me. I have never felt that sort of... all-consuming lust before." He went on, "I haven't _been_ with many men. Well, with many _people,_ in fact. I have never done anything like that with someone I'd just met. We didn't use condoms! I'm—I'm just not usually that irresponsible," he found tears coming to his eyes, but ground them away with both hands. 

"I'm sure it was just a combination of wanting to fit in so badly, feeling lonely and just... being horny, I suppose," he finished. "You are a lovely man, Lee. I'm not regretting what we did. I just wish I had been more responsible."

They were words that struck something within Lee. Not that he would have done things differently, had he been given the chance. Taking Dean long and dirty had been quite the event for him. He could still taste himself on the man's lips, the way he had last night, and he could have another bite or two from that body if given the chance. He liked that Dean seemed to care about responsibility even when there was no need for him to be. Not with Lee.

"I’ll tell you what," he said while he put his water down and shifted to the front of the couch. "We'll just treat it like it happened a long time ago and see where it goes. No strings. If you want it again, and I'm in the position to incline, you can always ask. Otherwise, we'll just be colleagues and friends. At the least I hope I've been able to relieve your mind from thinking about someone otherwise taken."

Dean felt a surge of relief wash over him. "I would like to spend time with you again, outside of work, Lee," he admitted. "But not tonight. I think I'll be sleeping until my alarm goes off tomorrow morning," he smiled gently. "There's a photography exhibit in the city. I was planning to go this weekend. Would you like to join me?"

"Absolutely." Because Lee didn't need to underline that it wouldn't be a date; he'd made that clear enough. He got up and smiled down at Dean, still seated. "You let me know where and when you'll pick me up, or I'll pick up you." He broke into a broader, more friendly smile—one more accessible to Dean. "It'll be good to get off the set and back into reality for a bit. Well, for as far as photography is reality, of course."

They had an awkward shuffle at the door where Lee wanted to lean forward for a friendly kiss on the cheek and opted for a handshake instead. Then he was off.

Dean had never been so relieved to be alone in his life. He locked his trailer door and slid across the security latch, putting an index card reading "DO NOT DISTURB" on its pane of glass for good measure. 

Dean got into the shower, turning the heat up as high as he could stand it and let the hot water pound away the insanity of the past 24 hours. The heat only exacerbated the red marks on his skin. He prayed they'd fade soon. Until then, he'd have to bear them as badges of shame and impulsivity.

He dried off slowly, feeling himself nodding off. Naked, he brushed his teeth, then strode out into his small bedroom, turning off lights as he went. He fell into bed at 7:45 p.m. and was asleep before his eyes completely closed.

\-------

In the dark of the night, Aidan lay on his bed with the curtains open. From his bed he watched the sky and its spotted darkness, the waning moon just outside his line of vision. He'd watched it rise into the window, pull up in the sky and arc overhead within the blink of an eye. If he were a contemplative person, lots of thoughts would be running through his head.

He wasn't. Decades, centuries of life had taught him that there was no greater peace, no greater ease through which to move through the world, than to empty his mind. While he attempted it now, a certain restlessness nestled in him. It was the kind of tickling sensation that left him with nothing on his mind, but a feeling like there ought to be, like something had unshifted and he knew not what.

Aidan couldn't sleep.

He belonged in the world under the grass, where darkness was worn like a second skin, warm and comforting.

He wet his lips, but the fleeting thought remained at the edge of his consciousness. Frustrated, he got up at last and out of his trailer, where he only returned at seven in the morning to make it seem like he had slept there.

Not out to feel the wind in his hair and the faint scent of nature to clear his head.


	6. Peaches and Poker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan and Dean form a tentative friendship. Aidan discovers Dean's sketches. Richard and Lee discover Aidan has discovered Dean.

Next morning at breakfast, Dean was faced with a dilemma. Aidan sat alone, surprisingly, pushing some fruit around with his fork. While Adam was beckoning to him from where he sat with James and Martin, something drew Dean over to sit with Aidan.

"Hey, good morning," he said, placing his tray across from the brunet's. Dean was much refreshed from 10 hours blessed hours of sleep, but still a little stiff. "All by yourself this morning?"

Aidan gave him a small nod of acknowledgement, but didn't stop playing with his food, listless. "Yeah." He didn't feel the need to clarify himself, but he didn't move away either. When everyone else had gone and sat at the other table, he'd excused himself and said he had a headache—so it wasn't fair to allow Dean to sit on his table, but if he could be quiet, then Aidan assumed he had no reason to tell him to find an other place to eat—and settled himself at this small table with little space for company. "You had a good night's sleep?"

"I did, yes," Dean ate heartily of a breakfast casserole containing eggs, sausage, potatoes and cheese. "Best sleep I've had in ages, in fact. Wow, this stuff is delicious," he remarked, adding a bit of Tabasco sauce for a bit of a kick.

"You don't look so rested, however," he remarked on Aidan's countenance.

"Mh." For the sake of appearances, Aidan ate his first bit of what still tasted like preprocessed fruit. Peaches weren't supposed to be this perfectly round and neatly sliced. They had to be eaten with strings still clinging to the pit, and juice dripping down your hand while you tried not to spill.

Aidan reminded himself that he was here for the thing he loved—the theatre. But he missed home sometimes. Being so far away from the island on which he was born and raised felt lonely. "That's good," he said absently and held up his bandaged finger, "I cut myself on my sword yesterday after shooting. Silly, isn't it?"

"Just adds one more reason to the list of 'why Kili uses a bow', I suppose," Dean grinned. "Did you have someone from medical take a look at it... to make sure you didn't need stitches?" he wondered, taking the injured extremity into his own hand, and turning it over once, twice, to make sure nothing was amiss.

Aidan snorted, amused by the interest, and pulled the hand back. "It's just a scratch. They put some antiseptic on it and let me go. I'll make sure to look them up if my hand starts turning blue."

But it did bring him out of his gloom. He turned another peach part over with his fork, and decided to go for the neatly squared pineapple that he'd not had the original version of and thus didn't remind him of home. "I swear, I'm not designed for swords. I'm mean with a spear though."

"I rarely see you eat much at all, Aidan," Dean observed. "Which would, of course, explain how you stay so thin. Does our cuisine here in New Zealand not agree with you?" Without waiting for the younger man to reply, he went on. "The food here on set is rather institutional. But I'll bet you'd love my mum's cooking."

Dean looked up into Aidan's sad eyes. "It must be difficult having your family so far away. Half a world away. It's hard to imagine."

"I don't know your mum," Aidan reminded him with his fork waving about, his spirits already slightly lifted. This time he tried a good forkful of fruit. With enough of a smile to ensure Dean that he wasn't telling him off, or something, he said, "I hope you're not accusing me of not eating. I'll tell you, I can eat enough for the both of us. And this pineapple is heavenly. You should be one to talk. While you've been telling me I should eat more, you’ve hardly touched your food at all."

He was loath to breach the subject of home.

"Oh, believe me... I can afford to slow down," Dean patted his gut. "I can really pack it away when I get going," he admitted. "You know, maybe one of these weekends, I could show you where I live. It's a four hour drive up the coast, not far at all. I mean, if you think you could get away..."

Dean left the question hanging. He hoped asking it wasn't a huge mistake.

Aidan stared at him bedazzled. He lost interest in his food and blinked. "Uh," he snapped out of it at last, "Sure. Sure, that'd be nice. Are you asking other people?"

He saw Richard and Mark look in their direction and smiled at them, before turning back to Dean. Whoever he was fooling with that stacking up pounds soon, it certainly wasn't him. "You realise I'm from an island where you get to the other side in less than four hours, right?"

In Aidan's eyes, he was practically proposing a cross-country road trip to someone he'd only just become friends with.

"Oh, look at this. Now you're really making me interested in your mum's cooking." Aidan laughed with embarrassment. He wasn't sure if this was Dean coming onto him or something else—he was good at making friends, but terrible when it came to interpreting the other signs—so he did what he thought worked best in this situation. He diffused it a little. "Sure, maybe we should do that in a few months. It'll be fun."

Whatever Dean was doing, it did make him think less about home.

"Just so you know, I'm not offering to drive you all the way to Ireland. Though if you'd want to, you're welcome to visit."

"I've never seen Ireland," Dean admitted. "England, yes, but never Ireland. I'd love to go... sometime. Richard won't be angry if I steal you away for a weekend, will he? My car only seats two."

"Of course he won't be. I bet he'd ask me to take pictures and bring a souvenir." Aidan chuckled. "You forget it's usually me demanding his time, not so much the other way around. Give him the chance, and I'm sure he'd rather spend it with a book."

"I only asked because," Dean rubbed the back of his own neck awkwardly, "I mean... aren't you two _together?_ "

Aidan stared at him, before bursting out into a laugh that nearly made him spit out the piece of fruit he'd been eating. He quickly swallowed. "No! Definitely, no. I mean, he's a nice guy, and he's attractive. But that'd just be awkward."

He should perhaps not tell him Richard was his uncle.

"Did you think..." he waved his hand about, "...oh. Because I sleep on him?"

"W-well that, and other reasons," Dean bit his lower lip nervously. "You seem so... close. And Lee told me that you were an item. So I just," he frowned, "I just believed him."

"Lee told you that?" Not exactly seething, the news still visibly annoyed Aidan. He shoved his plate back and huffed. "He's going to explain himself later." He turned on Dean. "Why would he tell you that anyway? Did you do something? Lee gets a little... _protective_ sometimes, so I'm sure something must have triggered him. You know what? We're going to go on that trip, and we're going to have it soon. Ring your folks, Dean."

"Why would Lee be protective of you?" Dean wondered. "Have you worked with him before?" Dean's head was spinning. Moments before, Aidan had wanted to wait _months_ before taking an overnight trip to Auckland. Now he wanted to go immediately? 

"I imagine, being the youngest person in the cast, everyone's protective of you—to a certain extent," Dean locked eyes with him. "You do seem like you need looking after."

"I don't know!" Aidan groaned. "Please, not you too. I can look after myself just fine, thanks. Where does everyone get that idea?" He'd gotten here all by himself, had he not? Getting a role on this movie, starting out with theatre, all of that. There'd been no parents to help him enroll in classes or teach him the language, a decade ago. There had been no family willing to make things easy for him.

Miffed, he stuffed another forkful in his mouth and breathed out. He wasn't going to ruin this chance to make new friends just because he got annoyed. "Look," Aidan sighed, "I haven't worked with him before. He's a sweet guy, but he's just a little protective. Like I said, they're a bit like family, Rich and him. I'm sure that had to be the reason why he told you I'm with Richard. That doesn't mean it's acceptable."

"At any rate," Dean stood, organizing the contents of his tray, "we should get going, Aidan." Dean had put himself out there and again felt like an idiot. "You know, you should be grateful you have people looking out for you. It beats feeling like you're on your own."

Dean took his tray away and got rid of the trash and left for the sound stage without another word. He was beginning to think that bonding with Aidan was a pipedream.

Aidan sat perplexed at the sudden turnaround. He had smoothed down his own words as a silent apology in order to not push Dean away, and he had still failed. Picking up his plate, he quickly tagged after him. "Hey," he tried, "Sorry. I didn't mean—" Aidan fumbled. "You're not on your own here. I didn't mean to suggest I'm not grateful. I mean, sure, it can be stifling sometimes, like what Lee did. I'm just, you know," he searched helplessly for words. "I'm just saying?"

Dean waited for Aidan to get rid of his tray and walked with him to the sound stage. "I know why Lee told me that you and Richard were an item," he said sadly. "Why he lied." Dean's face, even under the make-up and prosthetics, was red with shame. 

Suddenly, the strap on Dean's satchel broke and the bag fell to the ground, spilling out Dean's charcoal kit and sketch pad, open to the likeness of Aidan he'd drawn while the man had been sleeping a few nights prior.

Flustered, Dean knelt to collect his scattered belongings.

"Why th—?" Aidan meant to finish that sentence, before he was interrupted. "—Whoa, careful!"

He also meant to say _watch out_ , or _something_ less like Dean was in the wrong, and cringed at his poor choice of words. As soon as Dean knelt down, he was beside him, helping him grab his belongings.

Dean didn't have enough time to hide the sketch pad before Aidan's hands brushed over it, and he stilled.

"You drew me."

"Yes," Dean's flushed deepened. "We were in the pub and you fell asleep. I-I just... got inspired," he admitted, packing his charcoal kit away. "You don't often sit so still, so I thought I should sieze the opportunity."

Dean fiddled with the broken strap of his satchel while Aidan continued to gaze at the sketch pad. Finally, Dean was moved to ask: 

"The sketch—do you want it?"

"It's… it's really beautiful." 

Aidan handed the item back reluctantly, his eyes sticking to it even when it reached Dean's hands. He shook, his curls swaying. "I don't know why, but it doesn't feel like it belongs to me. You should keep it. If you want me to have it, make a copy of it and give me that one, or draw me again." 

He laughed with embarrassment—Aidan seemed to do that a lot. 

"If you want to, of course. Listen to me, making demands. Someone drew my picture, and someone who's very talented on top of that. How long did you take? I wasn't aware you were drawing me."

Dean could tell that Aidan wanted to spend more time looking at the drawing, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to keep it for himself. Besides, they needed to get to work.

"I _will_ make a copy for you," he promised. "I can frame it, if you'd like." He carefully slid the pad into his satchel, tucking the bag under his arm. "It took twenty minutes or so," Dean told him. "If you'd like to sit for me, maybe with your eyes open, that'd be really nice, Aidan. You have very expressive eyes."

As of now, myriads of expressions ran through those eyes.

 _You should have seen them before_ , Aidan couldn't help but think. He wasn't sure why, but the compliment reached further than simple praise should. "Oh," he looked around awkwardly, "Come on now. Besides, how am I supposed to sit still for twenty minutes? Can't you draw me while I'm asleep again? And don't tell me when you will, or I'll probably get self-conscious about it and how am I supposed to sleep then?"

He casually bumped his shoulder into Dean and grinned.

"Thanks for sitting with me. I feel much better."

Dean began, at that moment, to feel optimistic. He was willing to work, if it meant getting to know and understand Aidan better. He wanted desperately for Aidan to feel more comfortable around him, maybe even comfortable enough to sleep against him.

He found himself grinning at the thought as he marched out of the sunlight and into Mirkwood.

———

Aidan was a bright leaf again for the remainder of the day, as well as the next. Buoyant as he was during takes, sleepy did he get when his attention wasn't demanded for five minutes. Richard did his best to be there when he collapsed and encouraged him to slow it down lest he hurt himself, but Aidan would have none of it.

He flitted to Richard for his shoulder and for music—he noticed when Dean caught them that night when he'd badgered Richard into playing a song on the flute and his foot wouldn't stop moving to the unearthly tune—and tried to veer away from Lee, though Lee eventually cornered him and they talked and were good again.

Aidan liked to laugh with James, and he liked to spar with Peter over his creations, after which he relayed to Richard that 'the dwarves are so unnatural, but the goblins are at least spot on' and how he wondered they'd have been if they'd been cast as elves. Lee at least didn't have to go far to get into character. Thranduil was pretty much a clone of himself, according to Aidan.

"Be nice. He does his best to protect you," Richard had said, and Aidan had agreed, albeit much against his liking.

"I know."

Aidan liked to hang around people that possessed things he valued. Music, and laughter, and—probably surprising to some of them—food. But he noticed he had also started to seek out Dean. Aidan told himself it was because of the drawing. Aidan liked the arts. Though he often found himself around the man when his sketch pad was not out.

"A few of us are going out for drinks," he said out of nothing nearing the end of the second day. "Care to join us?"

Dean paused for only a moment, playing over in his mind the terrible mistake he’d made the last time he was out for drinks. But this was _Aidan_ asking, and he desperately wanted to go with him.

“Yes,” he smiled at the younger man. “Absolutely. We haven’t talked much in the past couple days.” Which was partially true. Fili and Kili had talked. Aidan and Dean had not.

Aidan was happy to hear it. "Good. Nine, usual place. Catch you there?"

He moved to walk on, then caught himself and pulled back. "Bring your sketchbook?"

“I will,” Dean promised, watching Aidan’s departure, his heart hammering in his chest like a love-struck schoolgirl’s. 

Although Dean was nervous about Lee and Richard being present that evening, he still floated through the day on a cloud of hope and excitement of what the evening might bring. After work, he ate a quick dinner and spent more time than usual on his hygiene routine. He knew he looked especially fetching in black, so he wore jeans and a black dress shirt.

He’d repaired the strap on his satchel as well, and when he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder, he looked at himself in the mirror in his bedroom. _Don’t say anything stupid tonight,_ he admonished himself. _Don’t screw this up._

He left to walk to the pub at 8:50.

Compared to Dean, Aidan looked rather underdressed—like he'd just been pulled into this without having time to prepare. Hidden behind his large beer, he wore a half-unbuttoned plaid shirt over a black longsleeve and his hair was tangled. He stood out like a sore thumb against an impeccably dressed Richard next to him and the others who had joined in.

Martin was busy ordering another round when Dean sat down at the table and Aidan instantly perked up. "Hey!"

Richard and Lee exchanged furtive glances, and Martin too blinked.

Dean slipped into a chair across from Aidan, because—of course—Lee and Richard were flanking him. "Hi everyone," he said, and purposely locked eyes with Aidan, "and thanks for inviting me, Aid." He wanted Aidan's self-appointed protectors to be perfectly aware he was, indeed, welcome at the table. He slid his satchel under the table and watched as the beers were handed out.

One short. "I'll be right back," he rose to get himself a lager. "Does anyone else need anything while I'm at the bar?"

Adam got up and jogged after him. "Not really," he explained when he appeared by Dean's side, "but maybe they've got something to snack?"

As he tagged along, Aidan smiled broadly at the rest. He hadn't exactly told anyone else he'd invited him, and he felt like he needed to add, "Uh. I hope you guys don't mind." Nobody else had invited other people, even though they weren't a clique and anyone could join them for a drink, if they wanted to. The goal of the night had been to keep the company small.

"Nope," Martin grinned and took out his tattered deck of cards, which he started shuffling. We'll take turns if we're a man too many, can't we. What're we playing?"

It was obvious that he was looking forward to getting the newest acquisition to their team drunk enough to become loose-lipped.

As Dean ordered a lager and some crisps for Adam, the other actor leaned towards him. "Somehow I get the feeling you thought you might be alone with Aidan tonight," Adam smiled. "Sorry, mate."

"Well, I guess I might have held out hope for that," Dean admitted, blushing a bit under Adam's scrutiny. He handed him his bag of crisps. "So... you play cards here? I have a terrible poker face, you'll find."

"Oh, me too," Adam confessed. "They clean me out weekly, but Martin keeps buying the beer, so I'm strangely okay with it," he patted Dean on the back as the pair returned to the table and sat down. 

"Aidan didn't say this was a card game," Dean told the men around the table. "Should I just watch... or...?"

"Can you play?" Martin beat Aidan to his protest. "Well then, you're in. The person who doesn't play, banks. No minimum bets. Sit down, O'Gorman. If you don't have coin, you pay in a different way."

Richard made a show of dropping a purse full of small coin on the table. He was not going to run out. Adam sat down on his seat next to him and nudged him. He'd be loaning from Richard before resorting to more, too.

All the while Aidan sat content without a care and observed Dean. "Don't worry. Martin likes making it sound more sordid than it is, really. You're okay with this, though?" He took a long swig from his drink, never breaking eye contact, and nodded. "Hand me the sketch book?"

Dean was fine with the cards, he was semi-fine with the company, but he was decidedly _not_ fine about anyone else seeing his sketches of Aidan. "I-I'm not sure this is the best time for that, Aidan," he told the younger man. "I mean, with a game going on and all."

"Are there any naked ones?" Adam queried.

"No!" Dean hastily denied. "But, it'll disrupt the game."

"Well, that means there's definitely naughty ones," Martin quipped and dealt the first round of cards, leaving himself out of the equation. "You, my friend, have just made people curious."

Aidan saw the stress growing on Dean's face, heightened when everyone turned an expectant look on him, and decided to cut him some slack. "I'll see them later. Play first."

"You're no fun," Martin pushed everyone's cards forward in neat piles and sat back.

"We'll see them later," Lee turned to Dean with a smile that said, _unless something else happens_.

Dean, still more than a little angry at Lee for lying to him about Aidan and Richard, clenched one fist under the table to try to re-channel that fury. Part of him wanted to leap over the table and punch the smug American.

"Aidan asked to see them, so I brought them," Dean explained to those present. "But this isn't 'show and tell.' Let's play some cards," he smiled, picking up his hand and chugging his first beer in one long pull, hoping to quell his nerves.


	7. Fetching Etchings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fun at the tavern. Aidan and Adam good a good long look at Dean's sketches. Lee realizes Dean and Aidan might just be falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean O'Gorman written by ThornyHedge
> 
> Everyone else written mostly by BlueMonkey (she's much younger and more agile)

\- - - - -

Richard's face, through all of this, was unreadable, eyes intently focused on his cards. Something told Dean that Richard was amazing at games.

The first round underlined that hunch. With a steel expression, he let nobody in on his game. Whenever Aidan tried to—obviously—peek behind his cards, he shied away with a laugh, but other than that, he never lost focus. Lee on the other hand looked like he couldn't be more amused. With a flair of casualness, he leaned back and leaned his fan of cards on his knee. More than Richard, he looked like he owned the game.

Adam lost the first round, and Martin bought him another drink.

The game got more daring after that. After the third round, Adam got up, performing a great enactment of starting drunkenness—which would have been credible enough to fool all of them, had he not winked at Aidan—and planted himself in between Lee and Aidan. 

"Shotgun! I'm banking!" he exclaimed, while it wasn't technically his turn to sit the round out. Adam was however losing money fast.

He also claimed the bank for the next round, until he saw his chance when Lee got up to get them a round and patted the empty seat next to him.

"Scoot over, Dean. Show me your art."

"Well," Dean knew there was nothing in the pad he was ashamed for Adam to see, "okay." He reached under the table and pulled out the sketch pad, wiping the table with a napkin before setting it down between them.

He'd purchased a new pad before coming to the set, so only about 20 pages were full of his work. The first page, which he'd meant to remove, he was not particularly proud of. It was a drawing of Aidan he'd done from memory on the night after he'd driven home from his audition. In the sketch, Aidan—dressed as Kili—was leaning back in an office chair and smiling mischievously. 

Other sketches were much more harmless...little vignettes drawn during his breaks of the cast in costume, in various states of repose. In a few, they were out of costume—having dinner or drinks. He hoped the drawings of Aidan didn't seem more plentiful than the rest.

He didn't think they were.

That was, until Adam flipped the page to the drawing of Aidan sleeping, leaning back on Richard. Then, Dean felt sirens going off inside his head. 

Adam lingered on the page for a long time, looking up between Deanand Aidan at with an unreadable look in his eyes a few times. Then he turned the page, found it blank, and swapped back to the one of Aidan. Shutting the book, right before anyone else could see, he offered Dean a small smile that went unnoticed for the others, because Martin was pulling faces that had Richard grinning smugly.

Aidan watched the whole exchange and didn't get it, but he did catch on that something was odd about it, because Adam soon got up and none too kindly manhandled Dean onto his chair. "Here, hold my chair until I get back."

Never mind that the seat had just been Lee's, and the look on his face when he returned with drinks was not pleased.

"Let me help you," Dean took some drinks from Lee and handed them out. "Uh, Adam asked me to sit here," he explained lamely. "He's a bit intoxicated, so I wasn't in the mood to argue with him," he smiled, circling a finger around in the air a bit to indicate Adam's state of mind.

"Hi," he turned to Aidan, handing him a mug.

"Hi," Aidan grinned equally enthusiastic, yet confused. "Does this mean I can see your sketches now?"

Martin snapped his fingers and demanded attention for the game they were in the middle in. Their bank had walked away, Lee was just returning with drinks after having walked off at the start of a game, and only Richard was really still in it. "Focus, people," he exclaimed. "Eyes on me."

Aidan didn't turn to Martin. "Oh, please. I can see them, right?"

Dean slid the sketch pad over to Aidan. "Just don't miss your turn, okay?" he told the brunet. "We don't want Martin getting riled up."

Dean turned back to his cards, watching Aidan's reactions out of the corner of his eye. Meanwhile, Adam returned to the table, sitting down in Dean's former spot, carrying another round of drinks.

"Oh," he realized, "I seem to have bought an extra round. My mistake." He nudged Dean's foot under the table and shot the blond a look that said _move closer._

The sketches were gorgeous. Aidan traced his own sketch with his fingers, light enough not to smudge the charcoal, and traced back through the pages. He lingered at a life study depicting Peter with his hands up in a grand gesture, laying out the scene and how he wanted it changed for his chief artists. He remembered that day. It was so vivid, even through the rough lines.

His side brushed against that of Dean as he turned the next page, and it surged a strange sensation through him. Aidan, flustered, quickly hid it under a facade so that nobody noticed, especially not Dean.

"Oh, Lee!" He focused his attention instead. "You don't mind," he gestured to the taken chair, "do you?"

Lee couldn't do much but brush it off, after which Martin, who saw their gambling night dissolve into distractions, briskly said, "Richard. Your turn."

When Richard did reveal his cards, Martin groaned and moaned, much to Richard's amusement.

Adam blinked when Lee chuckled and put a hand on Richard's knee as if to tell him, _give the others a chance_. Because hadn't Dean and Lee just been struggling over Aidan's attention? 

Dean took a chance, after he saw how Aidan shuddered when they accidentally touched, and decided to step up his game slightly. He pressed his thigh against Aidan's under the table.

"Any chance you might fall asleep here again tonight?" he whispered into the shell of Aidan's ear. "I could turn it into a character study series. Aidan in Repose," he mused, squeezing Aidan's knee softly, cards forgotten.

And Aidan, who had lived through so many advances and yet had no idea what to do with himself, shook his head. "I don't feel like I could sleep right now."

Adam, who was following the entire conversation, scowled at his response. Aidan cowered, because he didn't understand the reason for his response. Well, he was only telling the truth. 

And Dean's lips practically against his ear, much to Lee's chagrin, as well as Richard's sudden undivided attention—which of course pulled Martin right in—weren't helping. He felt like he'd suddenly been placed in a spotlight where he didn't want to be. 

"Uh," he bit his lip, whilst trying to ignore the others listening in, "Sorry."

At least they couldn't see how his fingertips brushed fleetingly over Dean's hand on his knee in curious adventure.

"I'm sorry too," Dean said quietly, butterflies dancing in his stomach at the mere touch of Aidan's fingertips across his own. "We need to try this another night, Aidan," he murmured in Aidan's ear, "When there are less people around, and we can talk."

To the rest of the table he said, "So, how are we doing for drinks? Anyone fancy another round?" He shrugged in Adam's direction and rolled his eyes, sighing. When no one responded, Dean rose regardless and went to the bar. He was a few beers behind the rest and had some catching up to do. Getting away from that crazy table was the first step.

"We just..." Adam looked at the two rounds currently on the table, still waiting to be finished.

But as soon as Dean was gone, Lee got up and stared at Aidan hard.

"A word. Outside."

"Could I get a shot of whiskey please?" Dean asked the bartender, as he watched Aidan follow Lee outside. He downed it quickly, then sat drumming his fingers on the bar, trying to figure out what to do.

"You should go after him, Dean," Adam said sagely, sliding onto the bar stool next to him. "I'll have what he's having. In fact, one more for him as well. You'll need your courage," he told Dean.

They clinked shot glasses and downed the shots. 

"I hate this," Dean told Adam. "Why do they baby him and crowd him like that? It's like they think they're his chaperones or something." Dean stood up, determined to confront Lee, whisk Aidan away, or both.

\- - - - -

"What are you doing with him, Aidan?"

Aidan stared incredulously, before folding his arms and leaning against the wall. Lee, underneath a cool exterior, was seething. The way he moved would remind any passers-by of a wild animal, protecting its turf from trespassers. But Aidan wasn't his turf.

"I'm not doing anything yet, now am I?" the younger wasn't frightened by the facade. "And it's none of your business whether I will or won't."

"You know very well it's my business."

"No, it's not."

"Aidan."

"What, so _you_ get to dally around, and Richard could if he wanted to, but when _I_ so much as look at someone, it's forbidden? That's not fair, Lee!"

In a rage of anger, Lee pushed Aidan further up the wall. "Listen here," he started darkly, "You know the rules. Your parents allow you to be here on conditions. Richard and I are here to make sure you don't do anything stupid. We'd be fine with it if you wanted to 'dally around', you know we are. What we cannot condone is you choosing to do so with someone who's going to be in your daily life for a mortal year. You're setting yourself up for pain, Aidan. They do not love like we do."

The sound of approaching footsteps had them both turning.

"Lee, what are you doing?" Dean asked sharply, noticing Aidan's predicament as he approached the pair. "I came to see if Aidan was ready to go back inside, and by the looks of things out here, he is." Dean reached out his hand for Aidan to take. He could feel tension rolling off Lee in waves.

"Dean, stay out of it," Aidan said, softly, as if he didn't want him to get into trouble. "It's fine. I can handle this." The pointed look he threw Lee made it obvious he meant that line for him as well. He extricated himself from the other man's grip and shrugged his shirt straight. Then he turned to Dean.

"Can you give us a minute?"

"I will," Dean said hesitantly, "but you need to keep your hands off him, Lee. And Aidan doesn't need a babysitter," he added. He didn't go back inside, but walked a respectful distance away to a bench and sat down where he could observe, but not hear, their conversation. 

Dean knew first-hand what could happen if Lee got too 'hands on', and he wasn't about to let Aidan be next.

"Thanks," Aidan smiled.

He turned on Lee.

From where they stood, Dean wouldn't be able to overhear if they didn't raise their voices. So, lowering his voice, he started, "Give me space, Lee. You know me better than anyone else. He's not a threat to my life. If I get into a mess, it'll be my mess to deal with, not yours. Let me make my own mistakes for once."

"I made an oath unbreakable."

"To my father!"

"To the king!"

Aidan, stressed, quickly looked at Dean, but thankfully he hadn't noticed. "Stop it," he said between pursed lips. "Need I remind you of other oaths you took? You swore never to let anyone find out. Now, you're going to let me walk away, and we'll talk about this in the morning. Understood?"

Lee didn't like it, but reluctantly he took a step back. "Richard will hear of this," he warned.

"No doubt he will."

Aidan nodded and left him there in favor of Dean.

"Come on," he told the blond. "I lost my appetite in cards tonight, and I've got beer in my own fridge."

"I think I might have already had too much to drink," Dean told him, getting to his feet and swaying a bit unsteadily due to the shots he'd just downed in rapid succession. He hefted his bag over his shoulder. "But home sounds like a good idea," he agreed. "Is everything okay between the two of you?" he asked of Aidan's relationship—whatever it was—with Lee, as they started walking back to the lot. "That looked...a little heated."

Aidan scowled. 

"Remember what I said about being looked after because I was the youngest? Well, I think you understand now."

Behind them, Lee looked torn between going after them and getting Richard, which would give them enough chance to get out whichever way they'd look at it. "It's just—" he tried to express his frustration, "—complicated. We can watch a movie or play some games. Please?"

"Yes, absolutely," Dean told him. "I finally got cable hooked up to my trailer yesterday. Or, you know, we can just talk. I'm sorry you get treated this way, Aidan. Clearly they care about you in some way...right?" Dean wondered, trying to comfort the man.

Dean checked behind him, noticing Lee had gone inside at last. He was not in the mood for a confrontation.

"They do." Aidan looked around for a taxi, but his eyes kept darting back to Dean. "It's just, they have a bit of an odd way of showing it, you see? I'm just glad he didn't get Richard involved. He's nice, don't get me wrong. But he's more determined than Lee when he sets his mind to it. Ah, here!"

As soon as the car that pulled up at their side stopped, Aidan opened the door for Dean. He wanted to get out of here, before Lee changed his mind and forbade him from going anywhere with Dean, even if that was his own trailer. He wasn't sure what he'd do if that happened.

And he had been looking so forward to getting to understand the strangeness that was Dean.

Dean couldn't figure out why Aidan had opted for a taxi when they only had a few blocks to walk back to the lot. He'd counted on the walk to help sober him up. Now, he just had to hope he didn't do or say anything stupid. He felt like _something_ might be on the verge of happening between him and Aidan, and it would be just like Dean to open his big mouth and ruin it. He didn't want that. Not at all. 

Aidan, next to him, kept looking out the back window skittishly, as if he expected Richard or Lee to come chasing after them at a sprint. 

"Hey," Dean took his hand. "It's okay, Aidan. We'll go home and lock the door. They won't bug you there." _I hope,_ he thought, as they arrived at the lot and the guard at the gate waved them through. 

Dean paid for the taxi and tipped the driver generously, considering the short trip. He unlocked his trailer and let Aidan inside, securing the lock behind them.

The first thing Aidan noticed was the large sofa compared to the small bed—Aidan didn't have a sofa at all and while his bed was larger, he preferred to sit on the floor. A great deal of worry left him as soon as the door was locked, and without invitation he huddled himself into the plush corner of the couch.

He'd been so worried that Lee would follow them. Now that he wasn't, Aidan relaxed and took a good look around. As such, he squinted as soon as the bright overhead light was switched on.

"Sorry," he began. "I thought it'd be fun, asking you along. You could get to know us more and we—" _I_ , "—could get to know you better too."

He wanted that, if only to understand why he kept searching this man out.

Dean noticed Aidan's reaction and switched off the overhead light in favor of a more intimate table lamp nearby. Aidan relaxed more visibly when it was dimmer.

"I knew it wouldn't just be you and me when you invited me," Dean explained. "I came anyway, in hopes, I guess, of just getting to talk with you some. And here we are," he leaned back against the opposite arm of the sofa and opened up his satchel. "How about I draw you as we talk? Would that be all right?"

"Mh," Aidan lazily leaned his shoulder against the couch. For unknown reasons, he had assumed Dean to sit on the couch next to him. "Do I need to sit still for it?"

A comfortable silence later, Aidan wondered, "You really want to draw me. Am I your muse?" And forgot that while for his people that was a normal thing, it didn't happen as often between men. And when it did, they never asked it this directly.

That's what he'd been told a long time ago.

The question made Dean chuckle. "I guess lately, you _are,_ " he admitted. "If by 'muse' you mean someone I can't take my eyes off of—someone who inspires me to be better."

Dean got out his pad. "You don't have to sit still. Just stay sitting where you are, if you don't mind," he got comfortable with his charcoal kit nearby. "I get the feeling you have questions for me, Aidan. Why don't you ask me?"

He did. Pulling his legs up on the couch, Aidan was all too willing to ask. That meant that questions for him would be avoided for now. He thought long about the first question, before he decided on, "Do you have a beer?"

"I have a few, yes," Dean told him. He'd begun to outline Aidan's face on paper, but stopped to get up and fetch Aidan a bottle from the refrigerator. He uncapped it and handed it over. 

Settling back down, he studied the curve of Aidan's jaw for a moment before continuing to draw.

"Next question?"

Aidan's lips closed around the end of the bottle and he sighed with content.

"Well. Tell me about how you like it on set? Everybody was here before you, right?"

Aidan tried to sit still, but it was a lost cause. With a twinkle in his eyes, he watched Dean draw.

"Everyone's been very understanding and accommodating," Dean told him. "Some are a bit friendlier than others, of course, but that's just human nature, isn't it?" he kept his eyes on his work, looking up at Aidan from time to time and tilting his head to study him.

Using a shading tool, he began creating Aidan's curls, tracing the locks lovingly with his eyes from time to time.

"Do you have any hobbies?" he asked Aidan.

Aidan felt himself grow jealous of a drawing, before he expelled the thought. He traced his own curls absently. "Who have been friendlier than others?" he wondered.

"It's really silly." Aidan took another sip from his drink and lay down on the couch. A few seconds he veered up again, having forgotten he was being drawn. "I like to go for walks at night. Especially when the moon is out and it's in a forest. People always tell me it's dangerous, but I'm still here. And music. Richard plays the flute so wonderfully, I could fall asleep just listening to him. It's nothing creative like you. My dad left none of the gene for me, it seems." He chuckled. "He's an artist. He doesn't like me being an actor, because he says it's like playing pretend. And, you know, it is. But that's the beauty of it."

Aidan looked at Dean, truly looked. He suddenly didn't want to be drawn. Supporting himself, he lay down on the soft leather on his shoulder and kept looking.

"Adam's been wonderful," Dean told him, adding some shading under Aidan's Adam's apple, "And you, of course. I almost feel as if I wouldn't haven't even gotten the part if not for you," he admitted.

"Richard plays the flute?" he then wondered. "That certainly adds some dimension to his character, doesn't it? I think I'd like to hear him play some time."

He noticed Aidan was staring. "Hey," he smiled, blushing. "The artist is supposed to stare. Not the model."

"I'll ask him to play some time." Aidan didn't look away though. He was still busy determining things about Dean, but he also felt curious and adventurous. He could watch him all night.

"Does it bother you?"

The hand half trapped under his stomach started drawing circles into the plaid absently.

Frankly, Aidan wanted to touch Dean. But he didn't want it offered. He wanted fleeting brushes. He wanted to test his boundaries.

Dean's breath hitched involuntarily and he looked down at his work to avoid the sight of Aidan's long fingers brushing, twirling—doing a dance all their own. "It doesn't _bother_ me, per se," Dean blushed, "as much as it gets me hot and bothered," he admitted. "I told you, your eyes are amazing. Looking at me, huge and searching, like that. It's...well, it makes me wonder what you're thinking." The hand holding the charcoal trembled a bit.

Dean was having a hard time focusing right now.


	8. The Ankle Bone's Connected To The...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up a bit back at Dean's trailer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ankle porn. Who knew?

_Dean's breath hitched involuntarily and he looked down at his work to avoid the sight of Aidan's long fingers brushing, twirling—doing a dance all their own. "It doesn't bother me, per se," Dean blushed, "as much as it gets me hot and bothered," he admitted. "I told you, your eyes are amazing. Looking at me, huge and searching, like that. It's...well, it makes me wonder what you're thinking." The hand holding the charcoal trembled a bit._

_Dean was having a hard time focusing right now._

Aidan smiled lazily. "I'm not thinking very much right now," he spoke in what could have been a whisper. "I'm just looking at you, trying to figure you out. You have kind eyes. I like your crinkles, and your tongue peeks out when you're drawing. I think I like that too."  
He shortly chuckled. "I try not to think about Lee's reaction if he knew I was lying on your couch right now."

"What is it about me you're trying to fathom?" Dean wondered, with a small smile at the use of the word 'crinkles.' He was assuming Aidan was referring to his dimples, but it could have easily been the crow's feet that were forming in his smile lines.

Drawing forgotten, he put down his sketch pad. "I'm not all that complicated, Aidan. I like to draw and paint. I take pictures. I love acting more than anything. Your father would not approve of me either, in that regard, I expect." He cupped his hand around Aidan's ankle, fingertips softly slipping under the hem of Aidan's jeans to brush the hot flesh around the ankle bone. "He'd consider me a bad influence."

"I don't think it's that which I'm trying to figure out."

Aidan looked confused, although amused at it himself. As soon as Dean touched his bare ankle, he jolted. Pinpricks of impulses shot up through his leg to his spine and he reflexively let out a sound before his mind recovered control over his motions and he swallowed the latest of it.

Ten years had been long enough to learn about the way men and women acted in these kinds of situations, long enough for him to gain some firsthand experience, but Aidan found himself poorly prepared for the unexpected reaction nonetheless.  
For a being of centuries, he felt like he was just now beginning to learn.

"I'm sorry!" Dean pulled his hand away as if he had burned Aidan. "Aidan, I'm so sorry," he hastily apologized. "I didn't mean to... " he began. "Well, I mean, I did _mean_ to, but didn't mean to upset you by doing it." He looked down sadly. "I guess I got the wrong impression. I kinda thought you _liked_ me."

In response at the unexpected change in atmosphere, Aidan stared at him with big eyes. He hadn't...well, what had he done? He certainly didn't think he'd given Dean the impression that it wasn't wanted, though here they were, and Dean was saying things like that, and Aidan was _still figuring things out._

Eyes on the other man, he willed himself to lie down again and tentatively shook his head.

"Do that again."

Dean relaxed visibly. "You mean, touch your ankle?" he eased his hand back down to Aidan's cuff, and fingers back inside. "You like that?" He circled Aidan's ankle bone with one gentle finger, blue eyes watching Aidan's face for any negative reaction. Aidan was so warm.

Barely visibly, Aidan nodded. He had no idea why though. His ankle wasn't a sensitive spot. Had anyone told him how flustered he could get from someone touching the skin on his ankle, he would have laughed and inwardly claimed them fools who knew not how long he'd roamed this earth and that surely he would have known by now.

"Your hand feels nice," Aidan spoke oh so quietly, while he hoped Dean would sit closer soon.

This was definitely not how normal friends were supposed to interact.

"And you, my friend, have lovely ankles," Dean blushed. "One would never expect them to be so slender, yet so strong simultaneously." He looked up into Aidan's eyes again. "Have you always been this shy, Aidan?" he asked him. "What I mean to say is, you're what... 25 years old? You must have dated at some point, right?"

"And a few years, give or take."

Aidan's voice had no force, breathless as it was. He didn't want to lure the other man closer, for fear of being found out, and yet he was sure that if Dean stayed where he was, he was going to hurt him. "Trust me," he said, "you can't be as surprised as I am. I don't even know you that well. I think I want to, though."

As for having no idea what he was supposed to do, Dean was right about that.

"When you say you'd like to get to know me better," Dean added two more fingers' pressure to his questing hand on Aidan's ankle, "do you mean... as a friend—or as something more than that?" Dean was rapidly becoming tired of guessing. Aidan's signals, while strong, were a bit hard to read. "Because, Aidan, I really think I'm starting to desire _you_ in a more than friendly way," he licked his lips. 

"Right now, for example," Dean told the brunet, "I have this crazy urge to lick your ankle." He grinned. "I probably should have eaten a more proper dinner."

"... More?" Aidan dared not say aloud. He was sure of it as soon as he said it. "But maybe we should take it slow."

The thing was, he wanted to taste those lips badly. Every part of his body urged him forward to taste of the fruit that Dean offered. But Aidan also knew how men responded to kisses of his kind. He knew that Dean would lose control over what he wanted, as well as the forgetfulness that would kick in afterwards.

He couldn't tell that to Dean. Going slow would be best.

"But don't stop what you're doing, please." Which, combined with the way his body responded, was as good as a _god, yes_.  
In asking for _more,_ but not being completely specific, Dean could only guess at what Aidan wanted more of. He assumed it was touch, and that, Dean would readily provide. He slid closer to Aidan on the couch, pulling Aidan's sock-covered feet onto his lap. Aidan's feet, like the rest of Aidan, smelled good. Aidan always smelled good—even after a sweaty day on set, under lights, in costume—he smelled of pine and grass and... something unidentifiable, but good.

Dean slipped a finger under the elastic of one of Aidan's socks and slowly slipped it off. He repeated this with the other until Aidan's feet were bare. Like the rest of him, the tops were sprinkled with dark curls, which Dean ran his fingers through, before lowering his face to each foot, just to sniff the tops and huff over them, nothing more. Smiling at Aidan, he began to massage his feet, lightly at first, then more deeply. His thumbs dug into the balls of Aidan's feet and his fingers dipped in between his toes. He cupped his heels in both hands and smiled. Aidan seemed terribly relaxed now.

He wasn't relaxed however. With his heart hammering in his chest and his lips oversensitive—a thirst that could only be quelled by a kiss—Aidan had a hard time dealing with the assault on his senses. He lay back and closed his eyes in bliss.

In the back of his mind, he heard a message come in on his phone, but he made no move to answer it. If Lee or Richard knew about this, they'd probably come to claim him back and drag him head first out of Dean's trailer, and their rage would be insufferable.  
Aidan was falling, and he was falling hard.

"Am I allowed to go... higher?" Dean wondered, a finger circling Aidan's ankle bone once more. Aidan was hard. Dean could see his arousal tenting his jeans. "It would seem as if you want me to," he pointed out. Then, he got bold and did what he'd been dying to for the past ten minutes. He put a hand on Aidan's knee and bent the leg a bit, raising Aidan's foot up to his mouth. He nosed his way from the toes, over the top, around the ankle and then slowly and painstakingly dragged his tongue over Aidan's ankle. 

He tasted sweet. Dean licked his lips.

What they were doing was unmistakably intimate. Aidan let him though, his brows frowning as he tried to hold back the tell-tale signs that he was lost. Wherever Dean's mouth touched his skin, he felt heat blossom. It was supposed to be the other way around. 

When he did open his eyes and looked down at Dean, his irises were a mere corona of chestnut. "If I'd ask you to go higher still…" he bit his lip and waited for response.

"That would entail the removal of some clothing," Dean said softly, noting the tell-tale signs of lust in Aidan's brown eyes. “Can I remove some of your clothing, Aidan?” Dean asked the younger man, running a gentle hand up the inside of Aidan’s trembling denim-clad thigh.

A war waged inside Aidan. He wanted to, so badly, but there were too many ‘buts’ that prevented him from saying yes. At last the burning matter on his mind tore from his lips. 

"I don't want this to be a one-night thing."

Worried, Aidan looked down at Dean, trying to read his response.

"Aidan, neither do I," Dean quickly assured him. "I have wanted you since we met, at my callback. I've come to like you very much. I think I could possibly love you, given the opportunity to find out. I'm in for the long haul... if you think you could put up with me," he smiled gently. 

Aidan nodded feebly— _Thank goodness_ —and laid his head back on the couch. He had just needed Dean to verify he wasn't into this for one night, but he found that the long term that he expressed hopes for sounded possibly even better. He'd been through enough heartbreak in the past.

"I'd like to try that," he admitted. "Find out whether I can put up with it. But I'm sure I will be able to. I'm really no good at this. Sorry. Go on."

Aidan raised his hips ever so slightly off the couch.

"Well, since this purely experimental," Dean lifted Aidan's feet from his lap and climbed off the couch, getting next to it on his knees. "Your jeans will definitely have to go," he said, slipping his index finger under the waistband of Aidan's pants. He undid the fly's snap with his other hand and slowly began easing down the zipper, being careful not to snag Aidan's pubic hair or other vital organs... especially once he discovered—to his delight—Aidan wasn't wearing underwear. 

He was glad he hadn't been asked to remove his own clothing. Lee's bite marks still stood out in stark contrast on his pale skin. He wasn't proud of them and he didn't want Aidan to see his badges of shame.

"Aidan, you naughty boy," he chuckled softly. "Going commando, I see." He joked to try to diffuse his nerves as the dark thatch of hair and Aidan's beautiful cock came into view. It looked exactly as Dean expected—long, slender and as aesthetically perfect as the rest of Aidan.

Dean slid Aidan's jeans down to his ankles and off completely. He picked up where he'd left off—at Aidan's feet—and began kissing and nibbling his way up.

Aidan's self-awareness at Dean's discovery, albeit strong, was short lived. "Nothing wrong with that," he said in his own defense, quietly. He wasn't normally this fast, and he still had the nagging sensation that maybe he was rushing into things. Knowing next to nothing of this man who had drawn his portrait and his attention, he was falling almost too fast.

Yet that was not what his body told him.

"Don't tell me you haven't got secrets of your own."

As soon as Dean came within reach of his hands, he reached out and ran his fingertips through his hair, coarser than expected.  
He wouldn't be able to look Lee in the eyes, come morning. 

"I have plenty of secrets, Aidan," Dean told him sincerely. "But I don't want to have any secrets from you," he kissed the insides of both of Aidan's knees. "I have a feeling you could wrest any secret from easily, couldn't you?"

Dean's breath was warm on his thighs. "Aidan, are you sure you want to do this? Now? Tonight? This is not something I feel we should rush."

Aidan smiled, eyes still closed. "Neither do I think we should rush it, but you've got me slightly worked up here. If you think we could get as far as to fix that little problem for me, I'd be _very_ grateful to you."

Grateful enough, he implied as Dean's fingers wrought a delicious shiver from him that instantly had his body respond to it, grateful enough to give something in return.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a 'little' problem," Dean smiled at him. At Aidan's behest, he slid his hand up his thigh and closed it around Aidan's erect cock. "Mmm, warm," he sighed. "Let me," and he leaned down for a taste, closing his lips softly and having a lick. Aidan seemed to be bringing out the oral fetishist in him.

"Mh, yes." Aidan groaned at the warmth enveloping him—before Dean closed his mouth around him and coherent thought left his mind. His back arched up and he let out a low whine. Already leaking, the joint sensation of Dean's saliva mixed with Aidan's precum slicking his cock had to Aidan's head tossing and his hands kneading.

And then Aidan tugged him further up just to let his hands map Dean's jaw.

Aidan's automatic and visceral physical reaction assured Dean he wasn't making a mistake. He did everything in his power to make sure Aidan enjoyed the experience. The burning heat of Aidan's slender fingers on his face was a pleasant distraction to his worry. 

Dean hollowed his cheeks, taking the turgid flesh deeply into his mouth, lustfully licking and tasting where he could. The smell and taste of Aidan was heavenly—like a honeyed treat he could never get his fill of. The way Aidan was writhing in pleasure made Dean think this wasn't the last time they'd be doing this.

At least, he hoped not.

As thoughtful as he was, the exact opposite was true for Aidan. While there were enough reasons for him to calm down and think about what they were doing, only minutes after having sat down, he found that he couldn't. Dean's tongue around his cock was as sinful as it was distracting. Without a thought of reason, his legs spread to get more of it, while a shimmer of something, a flicker that revealed more, coursed across his visage.

For a split second, his eyes were again amber and the small signs that made him different from the people he lived amongst, showed. His skin was a bit less blemished, and his fingers less lined. But as soon as it appeared, it was gone, and his hips gyrated upward with need. "Close," Aidan tried to warn, "So—"

Dean, focused on Aidan's pleasure, didn't see these changes—but he did see the changes that signaled Aidan was about to climax. He slipped one hand under each side of Aidan's adorable little behind and latched on, holding his crotch captive as he wrenched every last drop out of him, not hesitating to swallow the sweet nectar.

"Well," Dean sat back on his heels and smiled up at his friend, "that was unexpectedly fun, wasn't it?"

Flushed and out of breath, Aidan swatted at his knee and didn't know where to look, so he turned his head to the side, while his eyes kept darting back to Dean.

"Unexpected fun, yes..."

He didn't know how to read the words. They sounded too light for his taste. Too casual.

"Well, I certainly enjoyed it, and it's obvious you did," Dean's blue eyes twinkled. "And I certainly wasn't expecting it. So, yes. Unexpected... fun." He leaned forward for a kiss, running a hand up Aidan's chest, underneath his plaid shirt.

Aidan panicked. 

Eyes wide, he quickly covered Dean's mouth with his hand before their lips could meet, and—afraid to speak—shook his head.

Dean was immediately embarrassed. “Is it my breath?” he wondered, after sitting back again and pulling Aidan’s hand away. “Or, you don’t want to kiss me after my mouth’s been… down there?”

Aidan shook his head again, trying hard to find something he could say. He couldn't speak the truth. Aside from it being forbidden, he was sure that Dean would think him crazy and think again over getting involved.

"It's not you," he said at last, helpless. "It's really not. I'm just...not ready for that yet."

It sounded lame even to his own ears, even if wasn't a total lie.

Dean tried to control his reaction, but he was disappointed. One of his cast mates wanted to mark him up with bite marks, but another—one he really was coming to love—wanted him to suck him off then wouldn’t even give him a kiss in return. It was hard not to think he was being toyed with. 

His own arousal deflating quickly, he handed Aidan his jeans. “It’s getting late,” he said softly. “You should probably go.” _Aidan is unusual,_ he told himself, _more than a bit odd. You know it. Don’t read into this. Don’t._

But Dean felt terribly, terribly used and ashamed and wanted desperately in that moment to be alone.

"No, please. Stay? I'm not—"

But Aidan felt miserable and rejected. He couldn't tell him, he just couldn't. And if he'd let Dean kiss him, then he'd regret everything that would follow—because he knew what came next whenever men kissed him. There had been several in the past whom he thought he could love, who had ended up hurting him. He pulled up his legs and hugged his knees.

"Don't go. Please listen to me. I'm so sorry you need to go slow with me."

“I am all for going slow, Aidan,” Dean said, choosing his words carefully. “But… I had your dick in my mouth. That is _not_ , at least in my book, the definition of going slow. If you’re having second thoughts about me, please, just tell me. I’d rather know right now,” he told him. “I haven’t had very good luck lately,” _ever_ “with relationships. I thought maybe you and I would be different.”

"It's slower for me than kissing." Aidan fumbled and looked down. "I haven't had any luck lately either. Either because Lee or Richard intervened, or because they lost their interest in _me_. I don't want that for us."

Aidan had no trouble with the lust that clouded men when he kissed them, when they didn't mean much to him. But to have someone he could fall for treat him like a good lay instead of, corny as it sounded, a partner, and then forget it afterwards was painful.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dean got up and took their beer bottles to the kitchen. “I will let you decide what happens next. Right now, I basically feel … stupid,” he admitted. “Take some time and figure out who—or what—I am to you. We have to work together for some time, Aidan. And I am not, unlike your other Fili, going anywhere. You have to deal with me every day.” 

After Aidan had done up his jeans, Dean handed him his socks and shoes. “I like you a lot, Aidan. And, while you are, admittedly, a little unusual, so I am. I can live with unusual. I _will_ want to kiss you at some point. I want to kiss you now. Which is why you need to leave.”

Aidan nodded quietly and looked away. It always ended like this, no matter how he tried. He had his answer to Dean's question without having to think about it, but if he said that wanted to be with him, then Dean would ask him to kiss him, and Aidan wouldn't be able to. There was no 'time to figure out.’ But how he had hoped that it would be different, that it could be, this time.

Mechanically, he put his shoes back on, stuffing his socks absently in the pockets of his jeans.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," he muttered.

Five minutes later, he knocked on Richard's door with red eyes.

\- - - - - - 

After Aidan left, Dean berated himself for what he’d done. Aidan had looked so crestfallen. But Dean didn’t think he was being unrealistic. Accepting a blow job from someone and then dismissing them was not the behavior of someone who wanted a relationship. It was the behavior of someone who just wanted to get off and go home. Dean didn’t want to believe that Aidan was that kind of person, but the evidence was mounting.

 _What did I do wrong?_ Dean lamented. On a whim, he got out his laptop and went to Google, where he typed the words “fear of kissing.” Up came the term _Philematophobia_ and a huge explanation about people who were afraid of passing germs by mouth and blah-de-freaking-blah. Aidan wasn’t afraid of germs. He didn’t even wear underwear.

Then, on a whim, remembering a little of what had happened with Lee, he typed “saliva aphrodisiac.” Up came several articles about an odd cave bird whose saliva was thought to be a sexual aide. He then tried “kiss aphrodisiac,” remembering how desperate Lee was to keep kissing him—and, in the end, how eager Dean was to seek after those kisses. 

Was it possible some people’s saliva could be addicting? Could turn you on? Dean fell asleep at his kitchen nook, one hand on the mouse pad of his laptop, with these questions running through his head.


	9. A Shocking Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan and Dean have some kinks to iron out. Richard and Lee are way less than helpful.
> 
> \- - - - - 

The morning that followed was awkward. Already dressed as Kili, Aidan made sure nobody got close and simply went through the motions. He tugged on his sleeves and straightened his wig a godawful number of times, until Adam remarked, "It's fine, Aidan. Leave it like this," and that was the end of that distraction. 

When they saw Dean, Aidan greeted him as if nothing was wrong—but also as if nothing had happened. Then he sought out Richard, and didn't leave his side.

Richard, of course, made very sure that Dean was unable to get close.

When they got a break, Dean picked up a bottle of water and went to sit with Adam on a bench in the sun.

“I take it last night didn’t go as you’d hoped,” Adam surmised by Dean’s mannerisms.

“Not quite, no,” Dean told him. “It seemed so… promising,” he said, a wistful look in his eye as he sought to lay his vision on Aidan. “But then, he shut me down. I feel like an idiot.”

“I’m sure it’s just caution,” Adam said. “You’re new. We have to work together a long time. He’s afraid to start a relationship with you.”

“He didn’t seem afraid,” told his friend, “until I tried to kiss him.”

“Why would anyone be afraid of kissing you?” Adam asked, then blushed furiously, “I mean—er—you’re like a little teddy bear compared to most of these guys. Harmless.”

Dean didn’t notice Adam’s distress. “Something happened,” Dean told him. “Something _big,_ ” he clarified. “I felt such a strong connection to him. And just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “it was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Adam told him sincerely. “Give him time to think about it. Maybe he’ll come ‘round.” 

“Mmhmm, maybe,” Dean finished his water. “I’m going to use the restroom before we get started again. Sorry to burden you with this, Adam. I’m glad you’re willing to listen,” he squeezed his friend’s shoulder as he walked off.

“Yes, lucky me,” Adam muttered when Dean was out of earshot.

When he last checked, Aidan and Richard were still seated on one of the branches, Aidan leaning forlornly against his shoulder while pretending he was fine. But Dean hadn't accounted for Lee, who wasn't on the day's shooting schedule and had been absent throughout the morning.

"You," Lee spoke as soon as the door shut behind him, its echo ringing in the tiled restroom, while he blocked Dean's escape route at the same time. Lee's usual calm was not there; instead there was anger. A threat. 

"What did you do?"

Gone was the charming man that had seduced Dean into his bed for a night. Lee looked like he could hurt someone.

“Nothing happened, Lee,” Dean’s heart rate ratcheted up at the sight of Lee’s angry eyes. “We went to my place. I tried to kiss him and he wouldn’t let me. End of story.”

"You tried—" Lee's anger intensified until it was a low, simmering sentiment bordering on repulsion. "Please don't tell me you tried to coerce him, because if you did..."

“No, Lee,” Dean said, angrily. “I didn’t try to force Aidan to do anything against his will. I’m not _you!_ ” He ducked into a stall and urinated, calling out over the sound of it. “I like Aidan, a lot. You lied to me. Told me he was with Richard. Then, you drugged me and took me to bed.” Dean emerged from the stall. 

“Now you have the nerve to ask _me_ about coercion?”

"Drugged you?" Lee laughed. "I did no such thing! Is this your way of having me pay back for a night that, I seem to recall, you had no trouble appreciating at the time? And, if you must know," he placed his hands against his sides, hoping nobody would come in right now, "I believe I had good reasons for telling you he was with Richard, because clearly you hurt him, and none of this would have happened if you'd just stayed away!"

“I did _not_ hurt him, I promise you that,” Dean told Lee. “I was so good to him. I would never, ever hurt him. I love him.” The words were out of his mouth before Dean could control it. And once they were, he raised a hand to his mouth, as if the orifice had betrayed him. “I have to go,” he turned and started for the door, not wanting Lee to see the tears that were forming in his eyes.

Lee dragged him back by his arm. "Well, let me tell you this," he hissed. "You're not the first one to tell me so, and you will not be the last one. I can't control who he wants to be around, but if you care about him like you claim you do, then don't assume you know what goes on inside his head. Treat him like the best thing in the world. Because he is, and he doesn't deserve it to get hurt by someone who thinks he has an inkling of what he's dealing with."

Dean was so upset he was shaking. “Lee,” he said, trying to calm himself. “I appreciate your advice. But if you are so obviously fond of Aidan, why aren’t you pursuing him?”

Lee looked at him with disdain.

"You know nothing, O'Gorman."

“I know,” Dean admitted. “And fuck you, Lee.” He stormed out of the restroom, opening the door with such force it slammed into the inside wall. He had a strong urge to go back to his trailer, throw off this ridiculous leather costume and wig and get into his car and drive home to Auckland.

Aidan nestled his cheek further against Richard's coat fur and sighed into it. His tears had run dry a while ago, and he was feeling slightly less depressed because of the distractions of work. Richard hadn't judged him when he'd come to his trailer, pushed his way inside and lay down on the bed crying. He'd put a hand on his shoulder and let the tears run their course.

Richard, Aidan knew, had expected it to happen all along. It hadn't been the first time.

But when he saw Dean return, frustrated, and caught a glimpse of Lee, he knew something was wrong. Forcing himself up, he excused himself quietly and tried to intercept Dean on his way back for a word.

“You certainly have a loyal bunch of protectors,” Dean told Aidan when the brunet approached him. “I thought for a bit that Lee might beat me up in the washroom.”

"He would have to answer to me," Aidan shook his head, before concern crept back in. "What did he say to you? I know what it's about, and I'm sorry for anything. Are you alright?"

Dean shrugged, “I’m as fine as can be, Aidan. I just wish I could deal with _you_ instead of your cadre of bodyguards. It’s like you’re some sort of dignitary. You do know that normal people just talk one-on-one and don’t have thugs standing by, right?” he smiled slightly.

Aidan cringed. "I would have liked things to be more like normal people between us, but every time I think I've got it covered, they mess it up. I'm so sorry if he did something." He chewed the inside of his cheek. "I mean, that's between you and me. It's not his business."

That's all he knew what to say before awkwardly just standing there, wondering if he should leave.

“I’m sorry for just kicking you out last night, Aidan,” the blond said quietly. “It’s not at all how I hoped the evening would go. Not at all.”

"Me neither." Aidan shrugged because he was trying hard not to have another round, pushing the lump back in his throat. "But I suppose there's nothing we can do about the past." He pushed his hands in his pockets—screw anyone who noticed his sudden, open awkwardness. "It's too much to ask for a rematch, isn't it?"

“I want very much to be with you, Aidan,” Dean confessed, very quietly, as the others, including Richard, were returning to the set. “I’m not going to pretend I understand your decisions last night. But I am willing to try, if you can start explaining things to me.”

Aidan's glance fleetingly looked for Richard and Lee. 

He nodded.

"I'll try. But not here."

And not _everything_.

“So, when and where?” Dean felt like he could survive the afternoon’s shooting if he had something— _anything_ —to look forward to.

"...My trailer, after work? But please don't tell anyone. I don't want them," he gestured at Richard and implied Lee, "to ruin this further."

The nerves were starting to kick in for Aidan, and he had no idea what he was going to tell or how he was going to say it. But he had the afternoon to sort that out, as well as years of internal monologues practiced. Which were, of course, worthless.

Aidan felt like a malfunctioning human.

Dean smiled, and after that, he felt like he could concentrate on his job—if he didn’t focus on the fact that Thorin kept glaring at him. It was Friday night, and anything could happen.

They cornered him once more, Richard and Lee, at the end of the day. Richard was nice about it, but Lee looked anything but pleased.

"Aidan's acting nervous," he said. "Do you happen to know anything about that?"

“Have you two ever considered,” Dean asked the imposing pair, “that it’s _you two_ who make him nervous? Always watching him? Telling him what he can and can’t do, and who he can and can’t do it with?” Dean was eager to get to make-up and out of the hot wig and costume. “He’s twenty-six years old,” Dean informed them. “Why do you treat him like a child?”

"Because he acts like one," Lee said, though not unkindly.

Richard, who'd just lost a lot of respect for Dean after having been trying to dry tears for the larger part of the night, looked down. "He's not a child, but he's...naive. We only mean to protect him."

“Maybe he acts that way because you don’t let him think for himself,” Dean proposed. “Part of growing up is making choices—sometimes bad ones—and dealing with the consequences. How can you expect him to learn and mature if you don’t let him try?”

Richard smiled sadly. "We've let him try, Dean." He left the rest unsaid.

Aidan had always wanted it all. He wanted his family, and the theatre. He wanted to lie in the grass and look at the seasons drifting, and he wanted mortal love. He wanted extremes which mixed like water and oil.

And they'd tried to protect him, but there was not much they could do if that was not what Aidan wanted.

"Please heed this as a warning. We're not pushing you away—"

"We are," Lee interjected.

"—we're just trying to make sure he doesn't get hurt."

“Why do you think I would hurt him? I would _never_ do that,” Dean reiterated passionately, as if hadn’t just explained this to Lee a few hours ago. “I am a good person. I care for him, and I believe he cares for me too. Who are you to presume to keep two consenting adults who care for one another apart?”

Richard took a step back. The discussion was futile, when had with someone who did not understand.

"It's to be considered a warning," he said. Not a threat. "Think on it when you find yourself hurting him again."

"But if you ever hurt him on purpose," Lee spoke, "Run, for there's no place where we won't find you."

That said, Richard placed a soothing hand on Lee's shoulder. "Come," he said, "We've done all we can do. Let him go."

Dean watched them leave with a heavy heart. He could understand why Lee might bear him ill will, but Richard? He hardly knew the man, yet here he was intimating that Dean was capable of hurting Aidan. Was he seeing something in Dean that Dean himself could not?

Dean had never been a prolific ladies’ man—or a man’s man, for that matter—but he knew that he was not a violent person, nor did he seek to harm others with his actions, especially someone he cared about. And he cared about Aidan. 

But the seed had been planted. Dean sat stoicly as the make-up personnel removed his wig and prosthetics. He dropped off his costumes without a word and went home to shower, all the while wondering what might lay dormant inside him. Was it the same evil that made him put those bite marks on Lee? He hated himself for not being able to recall that evening, or his motivations. 

He got out of the shower and dressed, spending the longest time simply staring at himself in the mirror. _You are not a bad person,_ he told himself. _You are not going to hurt him. You will let him take the reins tonight._

With a promise made to himself, and to Aidan, he knocked on the door to Aidan’s trailer.

The door opened surprisingly fast, as Aidan had been pacing back and forth since getting back from makeup. His shower had been quick, to make sure he didn't miss the chance, as well as to quell the nerves. He thought he was going to be sick, and then he wondered why he worried so much about this—it was a silly thing, not worth so much fuss. But it wasn't silly. And Dean might think so, though Aidan definitely didn't feel th—

When the knock came, his thoughts had stopped short and jerked open the door.

"Hi. Uh. Come in."

“Hi,” Dean smiled and stepped inside. “I’ve brought you something.” Dean handed him a small brown paper grocery bag. In it were three fresh peaches. “There’s a farm market just down the street,” Dean explained. “You seemed disappointed with the canned variety. Maybe you’ll like these better.”

Aidan's nervousness melted, and he chuckled. "You remembered about that. Thank you." He felt hope blossoming back, after he was sure it had withered, and he closed the door with a smile still on his face.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked. He didn't sit down, instead lingering around the kitchenette. Aidan was taking a huge leap of faith here, for someone he barely knew. Part of him wanted to throw Dean out and lock himself up and not come out, but that was the coward in him talking.

He didn't get a drink himself.

“I don’t need anything, but thank you for offering,” Dean told him. He looked around Aidan’s trailer, hoping to find out _more_ about the man. There were no photos of family, no post cards, nothing to give the place any personalization. Finally, he sat down in one of the two armchairs and waited for Aidan to come out. 

When he did, he pulled his feet up under him and sat cross-legged on the floor. Aidan never liked the armchairs much. "If you want, we can have one of the peaches later. But they make such a mess, so I thought—"

Cutting that sentence short, he nodded to himself, steeling himself. "I didn't mean for things to go that badly yesterday. Sorry. You probably think I'm real easy now, or that I can't commit, or something."

“I think I make you nervous,” Dean stated the obvious. “And for good reason, I suppose. I’m sorry about that. I have never wanted anything more than to put you at ease. But I seem to fail at that—abysmally.” He smiled. “But I didn’t things went too terribly yesterday, until the end, that is.”

"I don't not want to kiss you," Aidan cringed at the terrible sentence. "Well. You know. I wanted to kiss you. I should have said that from the start, though I didn't expect we would end up where we did at the beginning."

He was dreadful at these kinds of conversations.

The peach suddenly sounded like a good idea.

“Do you not find me attractive?” Dean wondered. “Because, it really felt that way yesterday.”

Aidan hesitated, before sitting back in his chair and observing Dean. He'd thought long and hard about how to explain, but it required a leap of faith, one that he wasn't sure he would get.

"I should show you something," he said. "But I can only show you if I am sure you won't hurt me. Please forgive me for saying that for now, because I know you're a nice person."

There was that word… again. _Hurt._ Had something terrible happened to Aidan in the past? Was he beaten, injured—raped? Is that why Lee and Richard were so fiercely protective?

“Aidan,” Dean got down on the floor and sat knee-to-knee with him. “I’m not sure I can make you that promise. Last weekend, I did something I swore on my life I’d never do. And I am so ashamed of it. And, what’s worse, I don’t remember doing it—at all.” He took Aidan’s hands in both of his. “But I care for you, so much. The notion of causing you harm is unfathomable to me.”

“What is it you want to show me?” he asked the brunet. 

Aidan's eyes searched Dean's. He was ill equipped to deal with the situation as is, and now Dean spoke of something he swore he'd never do, as if they were related. Putting the thought away to ask about later, he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a black silk tie.

"Can I?" he asked tentatively. "Just one hand, I promise. I'm sorry if it's a bit much."

“Y-you want to tie my hand?” Dean’s eyes grew wide. “Just when I think I have you figured out…”

Aidan stuttered in embarrassment. "It's nothing kinky." Not too much, at least. "Please don't make this hard on me. Just a yes or a no."

Dean nodded. “Okay. Yes.”

"Okay. Good."

Aidan wasn't an expert with the tie. He leaned over to take Dean's wrist, which caused a strange sensation in him, and reached over to tie him to the nearest heavy thing, which turned out to be the armchair's arm rest.

"Comfortable?" he checked the bonds.

Aidan sat back on his haunches. Nervousness was kicking back full force, and the next words sounded a bit muted.

"If you let me, I'm going to kiss you."

“What do you mean _let me_?” Dean smiled. “Aidan, I’m desperate for you to kiss me.”

"Well, you're tied and I didn't— Oh. Listen to me." Aidan took a breath. Then, with the need of someone who hadn't done this in years, and equal parts poor coordination, he slotted himself against Dean like he'd wanted to and pressed their lips together. 

Hands reached up to cup Dean’s chin on his own accord, and he let out a small whimper.

It had been so, so long.

Dean surged forward as far as the tie around his wrist would allow to meet Aidan’s warm lips. His non-bound hand came up to curl in Aidan’s hair and deepen the kiss. Aidan’s mouth was like a honeycomb, buzzing and sweet.

Then, Dean felt it—that same deep, warm curling feeling in his groin and in his gut that he’d felt with Lee. The urge to ravage, and be ravaged, crept over him. Though it pained him to do so, he lowered his hand to Aidan’s chest and pushed him away.

“What are you, Aidan? And what are you doing to me?” he asked, face flushed with lust and fear.

Aidan crawled back until he was at a safe distance, his eyes wide. How he had wished that this time be different, that this time he could kiss someone and not worry about the consequences. But it came as no surprise nonetheless.

"I can't tell you," he shook. "Lee and Richard have it too. But they're stronger. They can handle it when someone—"

Not for the first time, he averted his eyes. Too much hurt of times past welled up. He didn't want to think about it now. The past, he told himself. That was the past.

"Once you calm down, I'll undo your wrist. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone. It's hard enough as it is, which I'm sure you'll understand once it cools off. You'll not remember much of it in the morning."

“I’m calm now,” Dean told him. “This isn’t the first time this has happened to me, Aidan. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have stopped. Because it feels very, very good. But I felt it before, so I knew. There is something in your saliva. It’s, like a love potion,” he posited. “How is that possible?” he asked, reaching over to untie his own hand, which he could have easily done all along.

On all fours, he crawled towards Aidan, easing him onto his back on the floor. “I don’t need extra stimulation to want you, Aidan. Can you turn it off?”

Wide-eyed, Aidan crawled further back, before he was caught between Dean and the floor.

He shouldn't have thought of being nice and not leaving Dean completely helpless by tying both hands. There was a taser in his pocket, because it had become a habit, but he didn't want to have to resort to that.

"I can't," he shook his head, "Please back away, Dean. We can do this when you're feeling better."

“M’not going to hurt you,” Dean caressed his face with both hands, straddling Aidan’s slim hips and leaning down for another kiss. “I promised,” he reminded him, slotting his mouth over Aidan’s for a much deeper kiss this time. “Ah, god,” he pulled away, a tear running down his face. “It’s so good. It’s not fair,” he began kissing down Aidan’s neck and shoulder, pushing away cloth as he went. 

"Dean." fear was starting to lace Aidan's words, while his hands tried to push him off. "Please. You're not yourself right now. Get off me." And, much quieter, "You're scaring me."

“Won’t hurt you, Aid,” Dean insisted. Sliding down his body and rucking Aidan’s shirt up to expose his abdomen and love handles. “Just want a little more,” he began kissing and licking Aidan’s taut stomach muscles, one hand firmly holding his hip in place. He could see the lust in Dean’s blown pupils. The cerulean blue was nearly gone. “So beautiful,” he marveled, cupping Aidan’s ass with the other hand.

Aidan reached for the taser. The shock that followed seeped deep into his own system and, his fingers rigid, he had to physically tear himself away from the weight that was Dean when it took effect.

The first kiss had been short, and its dose would have had Dean recover within minutes. But Aidan worried about the other kiss he'd stolen, as he lay panting on the floor, trying to still his beating heart.

He needed to get away.


	10. Aidan's True Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the "tasering incident" is awkward and illuminating.
> 
> \- - - - - 

Dean awoke with a soft cry of pain, five minutes later. He lifted a trembling hand to the spot on his right shoulder where Aidan had tased him. The weapon had left a small hole in his shirt that was still smoking a bit, and two deep red circles resembling a vampire bite on his flesh. It stung somewhat, but it was the rest of his body's reaction that troubled him. He felt like he'd just run a marathon. Every muscle was completely weak, though occasionally one would jerk spasmodically. 

Aidan must have left, as he didn't answer when Dean called out to him.

Ashamed and dizzy, Dean was desperate to slink back to his trailer and pretend this evening had never happened. He wondered if a second Fili leaving the set for "personal reasons" would be too much for Jackson to take.

Slowly, he got to his feet and, using the walls for support, left Aidan's trailer. His own trailer was just a few doors down. He prayed he'd run into no one as he carefully made his way along in the twilight.

His path took him past Richard's. Had he listened, he would have heard muted voices coming from inside.

"Aidan..."

"Please," Aidan pleaded, "I can sleep on the couch. You won't hear me breathe. I don't want to be alone tonight."

Richard sighed. "Something has happened, hasn't it?"

"No," Aidan huffed, but it was tinged with a tremble. "Nothing has to happen for me to want to sleep over. Isn't it nice to have someone over?"

"Is it Dean?"

Aidan sat down on the couch as if he hadn't heard, curled up with his front towards the back of the sofa, and muffled, "Thanks, Rich. You're the best."

Dean's trailer was twenty feet away, but it seemed like a mile. Dean needed to pause, for just a moment, and sank down on Adam Brown's steps. Exhausted, he held his hands up before his eyes and watched in horror as the fingers on his right hand twitched involuntarily. His right shoulder followed. He let out a repulsed cry.

"Dean?" Adam called out through his screen door. "What are you doing out there?"

"N-nothing," Dean tried to pull himself to his feet. "I just need to get home. T-to my trailer. Adam, will you help me?"

"Had a few too many with dinner?" the spectacled actor joked, then he saw Dean's face. "Okay, maybe not. Let's go." He eased himself in under Dean's left arm and helped Dean walk the rest of the way to his trailer, reaching into his pocket and unlocking the door for him. "D'you need help getting to bed?"

"C-couch is fine," Dean insisted. "Will you lock up for me?'

"Yes, sure," Adam didn't feel right about leaving Dean alone. He felt muscles in Dean's stomach and back leaping in his grip. ""Dean, do you... I mean...are you..." he began.

"I'm fine," Dean insisted. "Adam, thank you for helping me get home."

"Okay then," the younger man nodded. "See you at brunch tomorrow."

When he'd gone, Dean slowly slipped off his shoes and turned his aching body sideways on the couch. He was asleep before his head hit the cushions.

\- - - - - 

Aidan said he was sick.

He wasn't, not by the definition that men and their medical diagnoses called themselves sick. Being what he was, Aidan had no trouble with infections or influenza. He did feel dead to the world though, and so miserable that faking a heating skin was no trouble.

As he lay in Richard's bed, the door tightly locked behind him, and pulling the covers up to his nose, he stared in front of himself.

Richard was a sport. Richard understood, without having to ask, that Aidan didn't want to talk about it, and he didn't feel as condemning as Lee was so gifted at. He couldn't be pressed to play his flute to make Aidan feel better, though having gotten upset over it was just petulance on Aidan's own side.

By ten, he found a run-down guitar in the older man's belongings and tried to strike a tune.

\- - - - - 

Dean didn't leave the couch that day either, except to use the restroom, and that itself was a major undertaking. Adam came by and knocked to wake him up for brunch. Dean called back that he just wasn't feeling up to it and sent Adam along alone.

 _I wasn't going to hurt him,_ Dean kept replaying the moments before Aidan had tased him, for that's what he realized must have happened. "I wasn't going to hurt you, Aidan," he insisted out loud, hugging himself and shivering. 

But Aidan hadn't believed him. And Aidan was lost to him now.

By two, tired with the incessant restlessness, Richard finally kicked Aidan out of his trailer with a phone on him and the express request that if he wanted to not go home, he should look up Lee.

Aidan, really not wanting to go home, actually did.

And Lee of course had to ring Dean.

Dean, tired of the persistent ringing, turned his cell phone to vibrate and snuggled down into the couch under his comforter.

The phone rang once more, fifteen minutes later, before a loud knock roused him.

"Open up, Dean. I know you're in there, and you do not want to have this conversation with me outside this door."

Lee.

Dean groaned. "You are the last person in this world I want to see right now," he told the tall American, upon opening the door. "I hope you know that." He sank back down onto the couch.

"I know," Lee said, hands in his pockets. He was remarkably calm when he trod inside, looked over Dean's disheveled state that had him deduct he'd still been in bed, and sat down. For once he didn't care about lighting a cigarette in someone else's home, and snagged a match.

"So," his fingers drummed on the rest of the couch, "the damage's been done, I've heard."

"To _me,_ " Dean scoffed, feeling sorry for himself. "The damage has been done to me." He pulled his burned shirt away from his shoulder, showing the deep red burn mark to Lee. "Aidan tased me last night because he thought I was going to rape him." Dean sniffled. "I wasn't going to hurt him," he repeated the phrase that seemed to have become his mantra of late. "He kissed me," he said, as if to explain everything.

Lee tapped his cigarette on the edge of the couch, not caring for burn marks. He let Dean speak, before he nodded and took his time replying.

"He tied you up for his own safety. You, in what I assume was the assumption that his judgment was poor, untied yourself and pushed him to the ground. 'I wasn't going to hurt him' is the first thing people say when attempted rape fails. Think about the times Aidan dreamed of falling in love, and then think about the number of people who have said your same words."

"I am not those people!" Dean cried out. "It breaks my heart that you and Richard think I could be. And it _kills_ me that _Aidan_ does." He found himself crying, which was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Lee. "I can't face him. I would rather die than walk around with the knowledge that he feels that way about me. I feel terrible, and I really, really want to be alone right now," he told the other man. 

Lee smiled sadly. "Dean, all men are weak. He has yet to find someone who is strong enough, and most likely he'll never find him. He knows that, no matter how hard he keeps trying. I'm here not to have you apologize, though I'd really like you to get on your knees and say you're sorry for not listening to us and getting him hurt.

"You will see him every day, though. So I'm here to ask you to look him up and say you're sorry. Get it over with. And be more careful of where you tread next time. Obviously," Lee furrowed his brows, "you mean something to him if he kissed you and tried to get you to understand."

"I am not going to apologize to you—or to Richard—for pursuing Aidan. You'll just have to deal with it. I'm also not going to try to convince you of the kind of man I am. You've obviously made up you own minds about me," Dean got up and opened his trailer door. "I will talk to Aidan...just not today. I—I'm not ready. And I'm sure he's not ready to see me, either. But, Lee, before you go, I need you to tell me one thing," Dean asked him.

Lee turned his eyes on him expectantly. If this man thought he and Richard were personally against him, he must have not understood much of what he'd just said. But it wouldn't hurt. "Yes?"

"What _are_ you?" Dean asked him. "You keep talking about men as if we are another race entirely. You have saliva that acts as an aphrodisiac. You are able to trick people into thinking you aren't injured...you hid those bite marks from make-up! What. Are. You?"

At that, Lee got up. "I'm sorry, Dean. I've sworn not to tell." He smiled softly. "If it suffices to say, I've sworn Aidan's father. If not for his curiosity, Richard and I would have not followed to protect him. By now I assume you know he's part of it, but I can't tell you more than that." He also added, to try and lighten up the mood, "We're not extra-terrestrial, so please don't think so."

"Goodbye, Lee," was all Dean could say, and coldly at that, as he held the door for him. 

After the American left, Dean locked the door again and opened his laptop again. He tried plugging a number of search terms into Google again, with less than satisfactory results. What did it matter _what_ Aidan was? Aidan hated him now anyway.

Dean decided he was finally feeling up to taking a hot shower, and the water felt heavenly on his sore muscles. Although Lee had angered him, one thing he'd said made perfect sense. He needed to mend things with Aidan, one way or another, so they could work. And he needed to do it sooner rather than later.

He got dressed in a pair of jeans and a white hoodie and went over and knocked on Aidan's trailer door.

"Who is it?" called a voice from inside, the door firmly locked.

"Aidan? It's Dean," the blond called out, wincing at the sound of his own name. "May I come in?"

There was silence for a long time. Then bare feet shuffled to the door and Aidan looked down on him. He didn't look all right. Then again, he was opening the door.

"Is it out of your system?"

" _It_ is," Dean told him. "You, on the other hand, are not."

Aidan softly smiled. It was a bit broken, but getting there. "The peaches were really nice. I ate two of them. Sorry about the third, or rather the first. I don't really want to get back inside, but we can walk if you like."

"Okay," Dean agreed, standing aside so Aidan could exit his trailer. "But not too far though, okay? I'm still a little worn out from...well, let's just keep it close to the lot." 

It was a lovely spring evening and the sun was setting. "Have you eaten anything but peaches today?" Dean asked him. "Because I'm starving."

"Sorry about tasing you."

Aidan was too distracted for eating anything more. "I'm not hungry, but maybe if you get something really nice and it smells good?" He locked his trailer and hopped down a step, but the distance he kept between Dean and him for safety was a little larger than usual.

"I'm sorry too, Aidan," Dean said sadly. "I'm sorry that you felt you had to. I've been led to understand you've had some very bad things happen to you, and, because of that, you have trouble trusting people. I was...overly optimistic, I suppose, in thinking you might come to trust me." Dean tucked his hands into his pockets, even though they weren't cold. 

He turned to the other man, wanting desperately to touch him to emphasize what he was going to say. "I wasn't going to hurt you last night, Aidan. I just wanted to make you feel good. Like I did the night before. I would hurt myself before I'd hurt you. What can I possibly do to prove that to you?"

"You should have stopped when I told you to." It came out bitter. "I didn't tell you to stop just for show, you know. If I'd just tied both your hands, none of this would have happened. But I didn't want to scare you off by asking that. It was stupid of me." Aidan was glad they didn't run into other people. He wasn't sure if he could deal with that now too. "But now that you know, do you understand?"

Dean nodded. "I understand." But he didn’t like it. He didn't say anything for a few minutes. "Aidan?" he asked finally. "Why is it like that...when you kiss people? You aren't human, are you?"

Aidan sputtered. "What makes you think that? There are people with stranger oddities."

"I am not saying it would upset me," Dean clarified. "I'm not saying that at all. I'm just very curious, is all," Dean told him. "You fascinate me, Aidan."

"Well, I'm from Ireland," Aidan tried to make a bit of a joke of it. He obviously wasn't comfortable with the subject; even if he told Dean that Richard and Lee had the same thing.

Dean wrinkled his forehead in consternation. It was obvious that neither Aidan or Lee were going to be forthcoming. Maybe it was time to ask a different source.

"Can we stop here, just for a few minutes?" Dean asked, when they arrived at a hamburger stand. "I'd like to get something to take home to eat."

Aidan acquiesced without words, his hands in his pockets. He waited patiently for Dean to get his hamburger, all sorts of thoughts going on in his head. "Get me a coke," he said, and reached for his wallet for coin.

Dean raised his hand to indicate there was no need for Aidan to pay. He returned from a line a few minutes later carrying a white bag that smelled distinctly of hot grease. He handed Aidan a tall plastic cup of soda with a straw in it. "Here you go," he said. Their fingers brushed as the cup exchanged hands. Dean didn't apologize.

The affection felt warm, like how Aidan had wanted it to be. He paused.

"Dean?"

Clamping his gloved fingers around the soda, he thought long about whether or not to ask. Hope made him give in. "Do you think that now that you know, you can live with that and, you know, we can try?"

"I don't know," Dean said honestly, looking down at his feet. "It feels like everything about you is a secret that I'm not allowed to know the answer to. I feel like I can tell you anything, and I want to share everything with you, Aidan. But I can't live with all the secrets that you have." He shifted uncomfortably. "We have to be able to trust each other, but I don't feel trusted at all—except when we're acting. I feel like you trust me when I'm Fili, but not when I'm Dean."

Aidan shrugged. "There's no comparison. Imagine Fili wanting to kiss Kili, or Kili wanting to kiss Fili." He frowned, then snorted. "You mentioned that in your audition. Wrong comparison, sorry." He closed his lips around the straw, before mumbling, "Come on then. I've still got my taser on me, so don't freak out or do anything stupid," like he would _want_ to use the cursed thing again, "but I think I can show you something."

"All right," Dean agreed, although not thrilled with the fact that Aidan felt it necessary to mention he was carrying the taser. "What do you want me to see?" He pulled a few French fries from the bag and ate them while they walked.

Stopping his walk, Aidan forced Dean to halt his steps beside him. He quickly glanced around, but nobody could see him from where they stood. He felt like a kid on the playground again, like that night when he'd first gone out into the human world—he felt like he was doing something he wasn't allowed.

"Look at me."

For the briefest of glances, his eyes shifted into a honey and the shimmer that they'd long called a glamour—but which wasn't so fitting a description in this line of work—fell off him. He was still distinctly Aidan.

But with some otherworldly qualities.

"If you tell _anyone_..."

Well, Aidan reasoned, they probably wouldn't believe him anyway.

Dean lost his grip on the paper bag and it fell to the ground, spilling chips everywhere. He tilted his head to the side in awe, not quite sure if he'd seen what he'd seen, or he were having some sort of seizure. Regardless, he suddenly felt very gawky and plain compared to his companion. 

Dean blinked a few times, then knelt to pick up his bag. Pigeons were already fighting over the dropped potatoes, so he let them. He didn't speak. He didn't know what to say.

"W-we should head back," he said finally. "It's getting dark."

The lack of a smile, or any other response that Aidan could construe as positive, caused again worry to well up in the man.

"Right. We should. I shouldn't have shown you, right?"

"You are so beautiful," Dean told Aidan, with a voice that sounded like he'd seen the face of God. "You were beautiful to me before, but..." he blinked and a tear found its way down his cheek. "No.... I can't. I don't deserve you. Whatever you are. You are special," he said sadly, "and I'm just me."

That being the other opposite, Aidan didn't feel very cheered up at all. "It's not a competition," he meekly said, "No secrets, right? Please don't go back on your word." Dean was special enough to him for it not to matter. "If I wanted someone like myself, I would have stayed home. But I'm here. Lee is going to kill me if he finds out I showed you. I promised not to _tell_ , but he's always so concerned. We should get you a new bag of chips."

"I'm not even sure what I just saw," Dean told him honestly. "How could I begin to tell anyone? Was that your 'grace'? Are you an angel?" he wondered. "Don't bother with the fries. I-I'm all right." Dean seemed dazed, actually, quite far from all right. "I think I need to sit down," he said suddenly, hurrying to a nearby bench. He sat, taking a few long, deep breaths. 

"No such thing as angels," Aidan quipped, beginning to get back a better mood. "I still can't literally tell you, but if you want to know more, you should look into my roots. That's as much as I can give you." He sat down next to Dean, putting a hand on his back. As troubled as Dean looked, Aidan actually felt elated.

"You know, you're one of the first who's seen me. It feels really good. I mean. Well, you know. No more tiptoeing. And thank god you're not fainting on me."

"Not quite yet," Dean smiled gently, relieved that Aidan felt brave enough to touch him. He allowed himself to relax into the warm hand. "Thank you, for showing me...whatever it was that you showed me. It's not something I'll easily, if ever, be able to get out of my mind."

Dean's head had cleared considerably since they'd sat. "I'm ready to go now," he told the brunet. "Sorry about that."

Aidan shook his head. "None of that. I showed you for a reason." At least now, Dean could take Aidan's background into consideration whenever things wouldn't go smoothly between them. Not that Aidan planned it on not going smoothly. It was just that it hadn't exactly been smooth in the past, and he really wanted to get to know him better. The experience of the kiss might not have been a nice one, but Dean understood why it couldn't happen again.

"How about we go for a hot cup of chocolate and you let me watch you draw? No more revelations for today."

Dean nodded. "Sure. But I need to swing by my place and get my pad first," Dean told him. He opened his take-out bag and took a few bites of the cheeseburger as they walked, drawing strength and comfort from the food. "Do you know of a place we can go where the others won't bother us?"

"Well, New Zealand is your territory," Aidan smiled. "But I think we should keep the road trip for a different day than today. I'm fine with wherever, Dean. Just plant me somewhere and draw and I'll be good."

Besides, they needed a neutral moment between them, one that gave them time to breathe and let things sink in.

"I did find a nice coffee shop on the other side of town when I was driving home from the callback. It's far enough away that we'd have some privacy. And a bit out of the way, if you don't mind going for a drive," the blond explained. When they arrived at Dean's trailer, Dean ducked inside for his satchel and pulled the keys to his car out of it. "Would you like to drive?" he handed them to Aidan.

"Actually," Aidan hesitated, "I think I'd like sticking around the set tonight, if you don't mind." He felt like a terrible person for it, especially because what had happened hadn't been entirely Dean's fault, but he still needed more time before he could trust him enough to take him somewhere by car. An irrational feeling told him that wherever they would go, Aidan needed to be able to leave whenever he wanted to.

Resigned and immediately understanding why Aidan was hesitant to travel with him, Dean slipped the keys back into his bag. "We could go to the commissary, I suppose. There are some nice lounge areas inside the corporate offices." He looked at Aidan sadly. "Is there anywhere we could go where you'd actually feel comfortable being alone with me?" 

His words made Aidan feel guilty now, too. "Give me a few days," he said quietly. "Just a few days. I want to. I'm just a little shaken up. And, I mean, alone is fine. But within walking distance. The commissary sounds nice."

"When you're ready then," Dean slipped the strap of his bag up over his shoulder. "You decide, Aidan." He reached for the door of his trailer. "I hadn't intended on doing anything with you at all tonight—just talking with you—and I am glad you gave me that opportunity. I guess I'll see you on set Monday morning," he opened the door and went inside. "It's late. I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight, Aidan."

Aidan however recognized the pattern from a few nights earlier. Not wanting them to be awkward in the morning, he quickly put his foot between the door and the frame, forcing his knee up for a better block. "I don't want to go back to my trailer. I've spent half the day holing myself up and I really...Can I come in?"

A series of emotions played through Dean's blue eyes as he pondered Aidan's request—fear, regret, sorrow, hope. Finally, he nodded. "Okay," and opened the door, "for a little."

He left the front door open so that anyone could look in through the screen and see them. He thought that might put Aidan at ease. "Your Coke's empty. Let me get you another," he went to the kitchen and produced a can from the refrigerator. "You can have the couch. I'll sit over here," he indicated an armchair. "The light is good here."

"Got it." Aidan nodded. "I won't be a bother."

And he wasn't. While he was curious, he stayed in his allocated spot and took ships from his cola while he looked around. The trailer was much more crammed than his own, which he tried to keep as spacious as possible. Many photographs littered the wall here. He liked the ones from the beach, though he had never understood the appeal of the sea, himself.

It wasn't long before Aidan was dozing off.

Dean smiled, constantly amazed at Aidan's ability to sleep in the strangest of places, especially after drinking two giant caffeinated beverages. Now that Aidan was asleep, Dean picked up a piece of charcoal to begin drawing him. He was especially intrigued with the line of Aidan's throat as it tilted back against the sofa cushion.

As he lowered his right hand to the paper and tensed it around the charcoal to begin tracing the shape, his hand started to tremble. He gasped and tried again, but the muscles kept spasming, producing a squiggly line on the pristine sheet of paper. "Fuck me," Dean moaned. When he dropped the charcoal, the trembling stopped, but the shockwave of muscle spasms continued up his arm and into his right shoulder, causing the taser wound to throb.

Determined, he tried one more time to draw Aidan's face, but the trembling in his hand was so bad, he had to put his own left hand over it to steady it. He wasn't going to be doing any artwork until he'd healed, apparently. He could _not_ let Aidan know about this development. Although the wall clock read 8:47, he was tired. He unfolded the comforter he'd left on one end of the couch and used it to cover up Aidan. 

He quietly closed the front door of his trailer and, taking one last look to see if Aidan was okay, went back to his bedroom. Although he was exhausted, it took a long, long time for him to fall asleep.

When Aidan finally woke, the trailer was dark. He groaned and pushed himself up, trying to figure out where he was. It took the photos to bring it back to him. Dean's place.

If Lee had been looking for him, he would be pissed.

But at 2:04 a.m., so said the blaring red lights of the alarm clock, he quietly got out of bed, sat on the seat closest to Dean's bed, and looked at him for a long time. A sleepy smile pulled up the corners of his lips. Dean looked peaceful.

Oh so carefully, Aidan leaned in and kissed him on his nose. He quickly retreated, as if he'd touched something on fire, before curling up in his seat and closing his eyes again.

Maybe this time, he thought. Maybe this time he could prove Richard and Lee wrong.


	11. Lazy Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, a nice lazy Sunday spent in bed. With only a few minor complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GENERAL DISCLAIMER: We do not own these men; they own us. All characterizations and use of geography are purely speculative and at the whim of the authors. We apologize in advance for any geographical, national, political or gender-based inaccuracies.

\- - - - - 

In his sleep, Dean sighed contentedly and rolled over towards whomever he thought should be next to him, arm outstretched. “Aidan?” he whispered, so quietly it was almost non-existent. When the extremity encountered empty air, he creased his forehead adorably in annoyance and opted to hug the extra pillow instead. Soon, soft snores indicated that he was again completely asleep.

The blanket slipped down. In the moonlight, a red, circular bite mark stood out on the back of his left shoulder.

Aidan didn't notice it until he woke again much later, early six o'clock. The week's schedule by now ingrained into his weekend sleeping pattern, he lazily smiled when he saw Dean was still asleep. Part of him considered going back to sleep. But, awake, he knew that was not going to happen.

The dark patch on Dean’s shoulder looked like a bruise at first. When Aidan's eyes fell on it, he frowned. He couldn't remember any incidents on set throughout the last couple of days. But the longer he looked, the more a similar mark on his neck stood out. And two in the same area, looking more like suction marks... when he pieced it together, he gasped.

Dean had said something, right before they kissed. Aidan hadn't given it much thought in the hours after. But now...

Whatever it was, it wasn't old. A few days, a week at most. Not much longer than he and Aidan had started spending time together.  
For reasons he did not understand, it made him feel hurt.

"Dean."

He didn't care about the time. He was not going to speculate and ruin their already disjointed friendship—relationship?—further. Dean would have to explain himself.

"Wake up."

Dean left out a groan that turned into a squeak as he stretched himself awake. “A-Aidan?” he asked, self-consciously pulling his sheet and light blanket up over his uncovered torso. “I thought you might be gone by now.” He looked at the clock. “It’s early.”

Aidan's look darkened.

"Did you want me to be?"

“No,” Dean confessed. “I’m just surprised. How long have you been sitting there watching me?”

"Just now."

Aidan pointed at his shoulder.

"Those are bite marks, aren't they?"

Dean downcast his eyes for a brief moment in shame, then took a deep breath and admitted, “Yes.”

"Before or after me?"

“Before, Aidan,” Dean told him. “Before I thought we even had a chance. It was Lee. He told me you were with Richard. Then, he kissed me.”

"Me?" Aidan guffawed. "With Richard?!" He didn't know what to think. One moment, he'd been ready to cause a scene—without understanding why—and the next, all that rage turned on Lee.

Except that didn't sound right. Lee was troublesome, but he wasn't that shrewd.

"Are you serious?"

He really didn't like the images of Dean and Lee that now invaded his mind.

" _Lee_?"

“I’m so ashamed of what happened, Aidan. He was so open, acting like he wanted to listen to my problems. So, I told him I _liked_ you. He said that you and I could never be, because you and Richard were together. Had been for some time. He lied,” Dean said sadly. “I wanted you so badly, I was heartbroken—and lonely. He took advantage of that. He came onto me. And I _let_ him,” Dean sniffled. “I let him do whatever he wanted. I don’t even remember everything we did. Only that I woke up with bite marks, and I was bleeding… _down there_ ,” he blushed a deep pink. “But, what’s worse is, I think I did the same things to him.”

"Worse?! I hope you did! Get up. Right now, Dean. I'm going to see him and you're coming with me. He's got some explaining to do." Because really, this was _not_ cool. Aidan wasn't going to have his guard meddling in his love life by seducing possible interests. God knew how many more there had been before Dean.

And with Lee's ability to turn anyone who kissed him, Aidan considered it a big thing. According to him, Lee had done the very thing that he wanted to protect him from.

"You're okay now though, right?" Aidan quickly checked, while he stood near the front door and waited impatiently for Dean to get out and get dressed.

Lee had hurt him. And he was going to answer for it.

Then it crashed home, and Aidan suddenly grew faint.

In his eyes, it was no different from rape.

“I’m all right now, yes,” Dean told him. “And I don’t want to confront Lee. He knows what he did. I’ve already told him how much it hurt me. Quite loudly and rudely, in fact. Aid, I don’t want a spotlight shining on it anymore. I’d like to stay under his radar…and Richard’s. Can’t we just try to have a normal relationship? Or as close to normal as we can manage?” he smiled, reaching for Aidan’s hand. 

“The only thing I feel for Lee is loathing. I don’t want to have him clamp down on you any harder—for whatever reason he feels he needs to. He makes me nervous,” Dean confessed. “Can we just try to show them we can … be normal?”

For a second it looked like Aidan could be swayed. Then he roughly shook his head. "What he did is inexcusable. _I_ want to confront him. He knows very well what happens when he kisses someone. If you didn't want it, then it doesn't matter if you want to be with me or someone else, because then he never should have done it. And if he did because he knew you wanted me, that only makes it worse."

He sat back down on the bed, the need to touch Dean strong but kept at bay. "Please let me talk to him. I don't want this to go unanswered. What if he finds out we're talking again and he decides that he needs to interfere? You know he holds enough power over you to do so if he pleases it."

Aidan looked down.

"And I can't stand the thought of him having you before me, but I don't understand why not."

His people were not a jealous kind.

"It breaks my heart it happened like this," Dean admitted. "It was _you,_ I wanted, Aidan. Only you." He looked up sadly. "I don't think talking with him right now is a good idea, but I won't let you go alone." He stood resolutely.

Aidan softly smiled. "When it's Lee, I'll be alright, Dean. If you don't want to come, you can stay here and sleep some more. You're not built to be up at night. The only reason I slept was because I've had a bit of stressful day."

“I’m coming with you,” Dean reiterated. “I don’t trust him.” Dean put his hand on Aidan’s arm. “Have you ever considered the possibility that Lee might want… you? That the reason he’s doing all this is because of an attraction he has for you?”

Aidan thought about it, before he shook his head. "He's family, Dean. Maybe not directly, but he's been in my father's service since I was young. I know why he's so protective, but I don't really want to talk about it." That memory was still painful. "Come on, then. Get some clothes on."

Dean opted, again, for the long sleeved hoodie he’d been wearing often of late. While pulling on his clothing, he added _doesn’t need to sleep_ to the mental list of things he was going to Google.

Lee didn't open the door right away when they knocked, but when he did, he showed no signs of fatigue either. "Aidan," he said, before his eyes fell on Dean and his expression stiffened. "Dean. What brings you here at this hour?"

“Aidan spent the night at my trailer,” Dean told Lee. “On my _couch,_ ” he clarified. “Sadly, he caught a glimpse of the marks on my shoulders and back while I was sleeping. I did a poor job of covering them up.” He shot Lee a look that hopefully said _I hadn’t intended to tell him about this_ and _you, sir, are about to be reamed a new one._

True to his words, Aidan's anger flared up once again. "Why, Lee? Why would you do that to me?"

Lee hadn't expected it to turn its ugly head, frankly. He looked down at the two of them for a long time, before—not caring much for Dean's response—he sighed. "Aidan…"

"Tell me. You knew what would happen!"

"Can we not have this conversation here?"

"Yes, we're having it here! You should have thought about that earlier. Why would you do something like that?"

Lee paused. He looked right past Aidan, though it did hurt him to admit it.

"Because you can't look after yourself, and if I don't, you'd get hurt." Lee's head snapped to Dean. "Obviously. Since you slept in his trailer after what he tried to do."

“I didn’t try to do anything,” Dean said in his own defense. “I haven’t tried to do anything but begin a relationship with Aidan.” He felt ill-equipped to be having this argument so early in the morning. “Which you, in particular, Lee, try to undermine at every turn.”

"You don’t understand," Lee shot back at Dean. "This goes beyond you."

"I don't care!" Aidan cried out. "This is my life, Lee. You don't get to live it for me."

"Do you want me to remind you of what happens when I'm not there to protect you?"

Aidan fell back, hurt. Quietly, he shook his head. "But it's not fair."

Lee sighed. "Of course it's not. Do you think I want to have to do this?"

"I understand that this goes way, _way_ beyond me," Dean stepped up next to Aidan in support, "but I am here now. He's been hurt, that's clear. But you are wrong to assume that everyone is going to hurt him, Lee. It would mean a great deal to me if you'd give me—give _us_ —he stepped up and took Aidan's hand in his own, "a chance."

Lee blinked, before he laughed. "Don't tell me you're here for my permission. Especially you, Aidan. You've never cared for it before."

"I don't give a flying fuck about your permission, Lee," Dean told him. "I might have cared about your opinion at one point, but that doesn't matter to me anymore either. This isn't asking for permission. It's letting you know that I am in Aidan's life. And he doesn't need you—or Richard—to protect him from me," he hoped Aidan couldn't feel him trembling as he faced down the imposing American.

"I just hope that, over time, as we have to work together for awhile, that you'll come to accept me. I am not a threat to you, or Aidan," he tried to assure Lee.

"Well, that would be a pleasant first."

Lee didn't look pissed off. He rather looked resigned, as if he knew what the outcome of it was going to be, and it would not be pretty. He'd seen Aidan try so many times. Not once had he succeeded. Only once had it held for some time, but like all things, that too had crumbled.

"If you were to stick around and succeed," he spoke with a small smile, "and Aidan here thinks it's worth the risk, then by all means..."  
Aidan was so surprised at that, that he entirely forgot that they'd actually come here because Lee had seduced Dean.

"You mean..."

Lee shrugged. "But if you fail, know that every new person from here on will be tried extra."

Dean squeezed Aidan's hand gently, encouraging him to speak up for himself—for _them._ He'd seemed so eager to do so only minutes before. Was he afraid of Lee? Or afraid of what crossing Lee might mean?

"I'm sorry you have so little faith in Aidan," Dean told Lee, "for her certainly puts a great deal of trust in you. I have yet to figure out why, but I'm sure he has his reasons. I hope you'll be kind enough to just let us live our lives, Lee, and give me a chance—as I plan to give you a second chance as well."

"Until he gets hurt," Lee said.

"But I won't." Aidan spoke up. "It'll work this time! Please have faith in that. And don't—don't sleep with men that catch my eye ever again. Not for any reason. I don't care if it's the biggest bastard on the planet—which Dean is not, actually. And I know he won't do it again, just you watch."

He stilled, before adding in what was unmistakably a threat, "If you cross the line again, I'll have you replaced."

Lee's eyes certainly grew large at that, while his eyes fleeted between Aidan and Dean. Never before had Aidan so obviously hinted at their true nature.

"You..."

Dean shot Aidan a questioning glance. Surely he didn't mean he could affect Lee's placement in the cast! But this wasn't a time to be asking such questions. 

It was clear to Dean that Aidan wasn't terribly good at sticking up for himself. That was something they'd have to work on. Because he was amazing.

"W-we should go, Aidan," Dean prompted.

Aidan took one moment to look at Lee's face, and then let out a subdued, nervous chuckle. "You're right. We should." He couldn't believe he'd just said that. If Lee found out that Dean knew—well, Aidan didn't want to think about that.

"But you leave us alone," he pointed at him one last time before spinning on his heels and dragging the other man along.

Once they were safely back in Dean’s trailer, Aidan fell down on the bed and wailed. "Oh, I nearly told him!"

"Yes.. nearly," Dean caressed the side of Aidan's face. "Why do I have a feeling he's going to beat me up in a darkened alley?" He could feel the adrenaline that had poured into his system while he was in Lee's trailer rapidly dissipating. "Do I need to be afraid of him, Aidan?" Dean asked. 

"No. No, you shouldn't. But maybe we should just pretend to be on our best behavior around him for a while."

Quite unintentionally, Aidan leaned into the hand.

"Maybe he'll leave us alone this time." 

His eyes closed.

With what little he could recall of his one-night-stand with Lee as evidence, Dean didn't believe that for a minute. Still, he savored the warmth of Aidan's cheek against his palm as the first beams of sunlight streamed up over the walls of the lot and was leaning forward to kiss him before he stopped himself. But Aidan's eyes were closed, and he hadn't seen.

"Are you tired?" Dean asked the brunet. "Because, I could use some more sleep."

"Mh," Aidan groaned, "Right. Right. Let me—"

He made a half-assed attempt at swinging himself out of the bed, which failed. He was comfortable here. Dean's bed smelled of Dean, and if Aidan wasn't quick to fall asleep wherever already anyway, this would certainly do him in.

"It's still weird that he slept with you. I've never really thought much about it before. Is that normal?"

"I can't really recall if Lee did any sleeping that night," Dean blushed a bit. "I don't think he did. We were up late, and he was gone when I woke," he confessed. "You don't have to leave, Aidan," Dean insisted. "I wasn't telling you I was tired so you would leave. I was wondering if you wanted to stay and sleep."

"I know." When Aidan caught the assumption, he had the decency to look bashful. "I mean, I was going to head over to the couch. My blanket's there, and I'm sure you'll want your spot back. But please," he cringed, "no details about Lee and you."

"I never want to speak of it again," Dean told him, "or think about it," he added. "My bed's not the largest, but there's room for both of us. I don't need much space," he smiled, producing an extra pillow from his closet. "We can sleep until ten... go get brunch.... have a lazy day. We've earned it," he yawned, climbing in next to Aidan, and pulling the blankets up over them both. He rolled on his side, back to Aidan. "See? Plenty of room. I have seen you sleep in tighter spots."

Aidan simply smiled into the comfortable silence. He twisted until he was nicely warm under the blanket and thought he was becoming crazy, sleeping in the same bed as someone who'd tried to—well, that was the past now.

"We should tell him we slept together," he mused mischievously. "Lee, I mean. We should tell him."

Dean rolled back over to face Aidan. "You'd actually have to fall asleep in order for that to be true," his eyes twinkled. He snuggled closer to Aidan, wrapping his arm around the taller man's waist and pulling him closer, nestling his head on Aidan's chest. "Better," he sighed, tuning in on Aidan's heartbeat.

Even though it was awfully monotone and slow, Aidan nonetheless stilled and felt that strange flutter in the pit of his stomach. "I'll do my best," he said. "It's getting light outside. That's when I sleep best, you know. Careful, or you won't be able to wake me all day."

"S'alright," Dean mumbled, on the verge of slumber, "we c'n sleep 's long as you want."

He took a deep whiff of Aidan's scent and was breathing deeply and comfortably in no time.

Sunday, it turned out, ended a bit like a wasted day. Though for someone like Aidan, that was a good thing. He woke with a lazy stretch, huddled into one corner of the bed with only one small end of the blanket to cover him. He was dressed in yesterday's clothes either way, so he didn't mind. Not until he woke up and shivered and realized how cold he was when he didn't have a warm spot to himself.

The weekend had been far too stressful for his usual balance; sleeping in when Aidan should be awake felt good. He tugged the blanket closer to himself, mindless of who needed it at its other end, and grinned, rolling back and forth in content at the comfort.

That's when he saw Dean asleep and slowed down until he lay still.

Aidan really wanted to kiss him.

The movement of the bed roused Dean, who rolled over to put his warm back against Aidan. "Shhh," he mumbled. "Plenty of blanket to share, Aid," he told him. "Spoon me."

And just like that, a half-naked back pressed against Aidan's front. He didn't know what to do. It was all going fast, faster than he was used to and above all, different from what he was used to. So it was awkwardness that shook Aidan's hand when it hesitantly crept forward and pressed a palm against hot skin.

When he did, Aidan instantly sighed and splayed his fingers for full contact. He liked the feel. From there, it was a small change to wrap his arm around Dean's waist, tug him closer, and press a kiss in his hair.

Aidan had to hold himself back. He was beginning to feel heady, and he knew he wasn't ready for where his body was trying to drag him.

Dean was oblivious to Aidan's plight. He was simultaneously relieved and relaxed, sighing in contentment at the intimacy. He put one of his own hand's over Aidan's, interlocking their fingers, and sank back into solid wall of muscle behind him. "G'morning," he said, so softly Aidan might have imagined it. "Or is it afternoon?"

"Way into the afternoon," Aidan chuckled. He hadn't bothered to check the alarm clock, but by the light outside and centuries without anything more than the sun and the stars, he knew. Funny how, with all his years, he felt like the younger one between them. Sometimes, at least. He pressed a kiss against Dean's hair. "Stay in bed a while longer."

"Only if you stay, too," Dean requested, then his stomach growled noisily. 

"I think I don't have anything planned. And," Aidan added honestly, pulling him closer, "if I did, would cancel it."

"Well," Dean reminded him, "we _do_ have some lines we could be working on. Unless you just want to improvise tomorrow. Like old times?" he rubbed Aidan's ankle with his own.

"Improvise," muttered Aidan. "There's not that many lines anyway tomorrow, I'm sure we can manage." He nudged Dean's leg with his toes. "Lie still, you."

"Did you really just tell _me_ to lie still?" Dean chuckled. "You fidget more than a bus full of hyperactive children," he mused. He could feel Aidan's warm breath on the back of his neck, so he bared his neck to him, not sure he'd want to take the hint.

Aidan unintentionally let his breath skim the exposed skin, though he did his best not to give into temptation. It wouldn't be a good idea, right now. "I also sleep more steadily than a bus full of hyperactive children. And it's a Sunday, and I'm lazy."

Gooseflesh sprang up in the wake of Aidan’s exhalations and Dean shivered slightly. He felt himself becoming aroused and was glad to be lying in front of Aidan. He didn’t want his state to make the man uncomfortable again. He stopped fidgeting and sank back to enjoy whatever space and touch Aidan might see fit to grant him.

"This is nice," murmured Aidan sleepy. He was close enough to falling asleep again, although something kept him awake. "I don't get to do this a lot, you know. Actually, it's been a long time since I have. I almost forgot why people like it."

"I'm surprised to hear that," Dean told him. "You seem to take great pleasure falling asleep on Richard. I guess I assumed you were some sort of master cuddler." He punctuated this with a squeeze to Aidan's hand.

Aidan laughed. "Don't mistake sleeping on Richard for the same thing as sleeping in the same bed as someone I like. Let me tell you, they're very different." Because he couldn't resist, he quickly pecked Dean's neck—it was the easiest skin within access for him—and said, "I would never do this with Richard, for instance." 

"I don't know if you've noticed," Dean told him, "but here in New Zealand, grown men don't go around sleeping on one another platonically—unless we've had too much to drink," he added. "It's rather remarkable when you do it. Causes a bit of a stir among the cast."

Aidan's lips paused.

"Did I cause a stir by sleeping against Richard?"

Dean decided honesty was probably the best route to take. "It's atypical behavior, for men who aren't—you know—involved romantically with one another. In fact, it's what initially led me to think that you and Richard were an item." He shrugged. "Even for men who are 'together,' public displays of affection like that are often frowned upon. It's very intimate, don't you think?"

Considering the silence, Aidan was lost in thought about that. "I've never had much chance for that," he spoke at last. "Most couples usually kiss, and that's never been in it for me. I'm not with Richard, you know. He's family."

"Yes, you've clarified that, and it pleases me greatly to hear it," Dean found himself smiling. "I have to be honest with you, Aidan... it's hard to _not_ want to kiss you."

"I know." Aidan pressed a small kiss against his hair, while he shuddered. "I keep having the urge to kiss you too. We should talk about other things than that. It's only going to get worse."

But Dean _wanted_ to talk about it. Having been on the receiving end of chemistry-altering kisses, he needed to know more. 

"Why do your kisses affect me like that? It is possible—like with a venom or antibiotic—it's something I could grow accustomed to, and it might not affect me? I can't bear the idea of never being able to kiss you," he said sadly, "for I love to kiss. For hours and hours."

"I don't know."

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't know. Aidan had always simply assumed... And he'd never been in the position to find out either. He'd kissed before. Things just never really lasted long.

"We should ask Richard. He's the oldest, and he's always liked knowledge. If anyone knows, it's him. Or," Aidan wondered, "Maybe we should find out for ourselves."

Dean, as much as he welcomed those words, was hesitant. He rolled over to face Aidan. "I don't think that's a good idea, Aidan. I would die if I hurt you," he said with conviction. 

"It's pretty clear that I'm not always myself when under the influence of that type of kiss. But it felt different with you than it did with Lee. It's like, his kiss _made_ me want him, when I hadn't before. But I wanted you long before you kissed me," Dean cupped Aidan's face with both hands.

Aidan smiled broadly at those words, his eyes wrinkling in mirth. "I think there are ways. You forget how long I've had the chance to think about this. I mean, they're a little awkward, but if we could make sure you wouldn't be able to hurt me..."

What was less romantic about it was that it involved properly tying Dean up.

Dean felt a stab of pain in his heart, having to hear those words from Aidan. "We'll do whatever you think is best, Aidan," he conceded. "I never want to put you in that position again," he reminded him.

His stomach growled loudly again and he blushed. "Hanging around with you is good for my diet. You don't eat much, do you?"

"I do. At times like two o'clock in the morning, and three in the afternoon. Hardly regular times. But not right now." Right now, Aidan didn't want to get up, nor was he willing to let Dean go.

His voice quieted. "Would you let me try? You wouldn't be able to move, so I can understand it if you said no, but we can try and see how bad it gets for you and just go from there. We can do without restraints, but there's a big risk, and I'd rather find out how you would be affected before trying that."

"Just tell me exactly what you need me to do," Dean agreed, not wanting Aidan to think he had any second thoughts.

That's when Aidan grew nervous. "Lie still and let me tie your hands?" he tried as if the suggestion was preposterous. And it might have been, a little, to anyone who did not suffer the same infliction as Aidan.

Dean rolled onto his back. "All right," he agreed. "Go ahead, Aidan."

Aidan blinked. "Right now? But I haven't got anything to use for your hands."  
Though by the gods, he looked so tempting as he lay there.

"Let me check around," Dean got up. "I'm sure there's something here we can use. I'd like the chance to brush my teeth anyway, if that's all right with you." The blond went into the bathroom and did just that.

Exiting, he went to his closet and came back to bed with a black leather belt in one hand and a more casual, worn brown leather belt in the other. "Will these work?" he asked Aidan. "Or do you need something softer? I have a tie in there somewhere, I think," he mused.

The quick response, while there was supposed to be hesitation, managed to catch Aidan off his guard. As he looked at the leather belts, he pictured Dean struggling against them and berated himself, for that was not at all why he needed them, even though he very clearly liked the thought.

"As long as you're comfortable, it's good. Lie down."

Aidan straddled him immediately after, though he had trouble looking at Dean until he was properly secured by two belts connected to the frame of the bed. He really hoped nobody would come looking for Dean now.  
"Try to get out of them?"

Dean, while Aidan was securing him, had to close his eyes and breathe deeply to stave off the pressure building in his groin. Didn't Aidan realize how good it felt to have him straddling him like that? Each time their crotches brushed, Dean let out a whimper. 

The brunet simply had no clue how he affected Dean.


	12. Enthralling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Aidan kiss Dean without enthralling him? Let's find out.

\- - - - - 

Dean pulled gently, then harder at the belts. "This one, my left, should probably be tighter," he cautioned. "I think I could slip out if I tried hard enough," he added. His right hand was still feeling a bit less powerful than normal, but he knew it would improve in time.

"Thanks," Aidan supplied gratefully, while he set about tightening it and pulling it to see the resistance. While he crouched over him, he looked down at Dean and flushed at the clear arousal that was awakening there. "Okay," he tugged it once more and then sat back, one hand starting idly to trace the other man's lip.

"We should set some rules,” Aidan told him. “You're going to change, and I don't want to regret anything because you start asking me for things you don't really want to do, so I'm only going to kiss you, okay? And maybe you should have a safe word—they call it safe word, don't they? So if you want out, I'll know it's not the haze talking."

But he desperately wanted to lean down and kiss him and care nothing for those rules. It took Aidan a lot to stay where he was and bring up the self-control. It wasn't often that a man he liked was willing to do this for him.

"Aidan," Dean appeared to be in distress, "how am I going to know the difference? I already _want_ to be with you. I want to do it all," he confessed. "If I ask for something, it's because I want it...with you. I don't need pheromones—or whatever the fuck it is that you secrete—to cause that. I'm telling you that now, so you believe me. I—" he sighed. "J-just kiss me?"

"...I can do that."

Aidan nodded to boost his confidence, but it was a fleeting thing, here with Dean lying strapped to a bed and for him to do with what he wanted. Before all hope was lost, he leaned down and hovered just above a pair of inviting lips. Just the proximity—the ability to do this—was making him feel weak. It wasn't a tryout. It wasn't him showing Dean what could not be. It was doing what could not happen; it felt like the forbidden fruit that would send his world into chaos. Aidan took a deep breath. Then his tongue darted out to taste the highest reach of Dean's lips.

He knew he was going to drive him mad, but he feared for his own sanity more so.

"Aidannn," the exhalation came out sounding not unlike a pouty whine, as Dean tried to chase after more. But Aidan pulled back. "This is non-whammied me saying that I still want this," he smiled. "Want you."

And Aidan laughed, mixed with nervousness. "This is me kissing you. You're not a very patient man, Mr. O'Gorman." With nips and licks, he proceeded to caress Dean's lips, while never getting close enough for a more decent kiss. He knew he shouldn't tease, but he wanted to commit this to memory, this kiss while it remained unaffected.

When he finally offered himself more purchase, it wasn't a pair of lips that he sought out; instead Aidan started kissing Dean's neck.

A smoldering desire that had nothing to do with secret chemicals began to uncurl inside Dean. It was as if his entire being were centered beneath Aidan's warm lips as they fluttered deliciously and torturously over his neck.

His pulse and breathing jacked up a bit, and although he couldn't embrace Dean, he raised one knee to rub against his backside to assure him that he was, indeed, with him, in all ways.

Aidan had, frankly, been thinking about kissing so many times, and most of the times left unsatisfied, that he meant to explore this time. He meant to take his time, although he could not deny that it was doing things to him, things that urged him for more. He pressed his lips fully against Dean's neck and then his tongue.

Somewhere in the back of the trailer, he thought he heard his phone receive a message.

Irrelevant.

Something warm was flooding Aidan fast. Finally, daring so, he lapped lightly at Dean's ear before pausing there. The warmth burst into need.

All of a sudden Aidan was drawing Dean's face closer. Clutching. Deeply kissing him. His whole body writhed, and he gasped.

By the time Aidan got to his ear, Dean was as hard as a rock in his sweatpants and he knew there was no way the other man couldn't feel his arousal pressing insistently up against him. When Aidan finally reached his lips, it felt like an answer to a prayer he'd uttered so long ago he'd nearly forgotten about it.

When Aidan cried out, it awoke Dean from his lilting pleasure. "A-are you all right?" he asked his bed mate. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Shh," breathed Aidan. "Don't speak." He pushed himself more firmly on top of Dean, his pupils larger than should be possible, and everything about him opening up. He had spent so long among mankind that he'd almost forgotten how it felt to _breathe_ , through his skin, through his tongue.

Aidan kissed as a man dying of thirst. "How are you feeling?" he asked between kisses, but never gave himself the time to articulate, so they came out as wisps of sound. "Are you okay?"

Dean felt a bit like he might after having a couple shots of whiskey. Good, but slightly muddled. Aidan's voice sounded strange to him, like another language, but its tone was one of concern.

"I'm okay, Aid," he assured, although his voice may have been a bit slurred. He couldn't tell. "Don't stop.”

"For hours," Aidan smiled quite out of breath. "That's what you said, wasn't it?" _Kissing for hours._ He knew he could. The next time Aidan's lips met Dean's, there was no holding back, no method of keeping the other sane. Aidan almost wanted him to get intoxicated. He lay down on top of him, careful enough to be comfortable with one knee between both legs, and started carding one hand through Dean's hair.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered. "I can't believe we're doing this."

Part of Aidan wanted to do more; the other part just wanted to relish in the kisses. That's where Dean and he differed, for he could think of no thing more beautiful than to be allowed to kiss a man and feel safe.

"Hours," Dean repeated. "Hours and hours," he raised his hips a bit to chase after the friction of Aidan's muscular thigh between his own. He felt like Alice falling into the rabbit hole, and Aidan was an irresistible Mad Hatter guiding him through the looking glass. 

His body felt like a live wire, arcing out sparks from every extremity. "Richard would not approve," he found himself giggling, as Aidan ran a hand through his hair. "Uncle will kill us," he nodded.

"Oh, how are you even thinking about Richard?" Aidan pressed down, tracing his tongue into the dip between his jugulars. "I can think of better things than Richard." He was elated. "How are your hands? Are you holding up?"

A finger danced across folds of fabric further down. But part of Aidan still wanted to simply bask in kissing.

“Mmm,” Dean arched up into whatever contact he could feel. His hands were rapidly becoming numb, but he was afraid if he told Aidan, the brunet would untie him and they’d have to stop. And he didn’t want to stop. Instead, he asked for, “More, please, love. Just want to keep kissing you.”

"On it," Aidan said with a breathless grin while he pushed himself off to sit upright and look down at the mess that he'd created. And oh, it was such a beautiful mess. With nimble yet playful fingers he crawled between fabric and skin and bunched up the fabric, not being able to take his eyes off. As soon as his lips were able to reach a patch of the expanse, he took his chance and closed his lips delicately around a pert nipple.

Dean's hips leapt off the bed at the contact, and much to his shame, he found they were gyrating—almost imperceptively—with each touch of Aidan's mouth to his skin. Used to being in control of himself, he'd never had his body betray him so much as it had in the past few weeks.

He found he didn't mind so much when Aidan was the one causing the condition.

To the tiny responses, the other man lost himself until he lost track of time in favor of sound and sensation and only blearily removed himself from that timeless space. When Aidan finally looked up at Dean again, the man was wrecked. He didn't think. He simply moved his hands down to Dean's waistband and started moving it down.

He had a debt he ached to settle.

Past knees and ankles, Aidan tugged the offending sweatpants off, and marveled at the sight that met him. He found he was suddenly thirsty.

"Aid," Dean could barely get the single syllable past his lips, and it came out more like a rasp. "Aidan," he tried again, more controlled this time. Aidan's fingertips left fire in their wake and when one hand closed around his length, he became well and truly and prisoner to Aidan's whims. "God, yes, please," he chanted, not sure if he'd last another minute.

Aidan hadn't thought, after he had cried out against Richard's shoulder, that this would ever be in it for him. Yet here they were, and Dean showed both no regret, as well as only a mildly heightened response. What that meant, Aidan couldn't really tell, because he knew that it certainly wasn't for lack of wanting this; Dean's emotions lay completely bare for him. He hoped, as he gave making him feel good his all, that it entailed an equal lack of forgetfulness afterwards.

Still fully clothed himself and suddenly aware of that, he lapped a clumsy line up Dean's shaft in apology for withdrawing his hands in favor of removing his shirt.

Lost in the pleasure, Dean actually whimpered after Aidan licked him, then pulled away to undress.

He shivered as goosebumps sprang up on flesh that had grown used to the warmth of Aidan.

"Stay close," Dean told him. "Cold."

"Mh, hang on."

Aidan did his best to get out of his shirt as fast as possible, then rolled off to struggle with his jeans, which were naturally a pain as they were for anyone who wasn't standing. The giddiness didn't quite help, either. He practically pounced back on Dean when he was finally free of it all, offering the full onslaught of lips against lips and fingers where, according to some, they weren't supposed to be.

"I'm not letting you go," Aidan shook his head vigorously. "Not ever. You have no idea how much this means to me." For after searching for so many years, he had finally _found_.

Dean let out a hoarse cry of pleasure when Aidan found his prostate, which seemed to surprise the brunet. "I-I'm sorry," he apologized for the outburst. "It's just... that spot..." he writhed, trying to fuck himself lustily on Aidan's long fingers, but was held back by the restraints. He wanted desperately to touch Aidan, especially his hair and face, but he didn't make this known. He wanted Aidan to trust him, not fear him and what he might do. He kept silent. 

Dean himself had always been the type to have casual, short-term relationships—when he'd had them at all. He'd never met anyone who fascinated him long enough to make a go at it. Instead of filling him with dread, Aidan's promise of fidelity and tenacity filled him with peace and security.

He came with Aidan's name on his lips and his delicate fingers touching him in his most intimate places.

The come smeared messily when Aidan once again wrapped his hand around his cock to drag out the last waves. All the while his eyes were locked on Dean, and his mouth went dry as he watched him come undone. He shouldn't kiss him now, or he would instigate a whole other round that he was sure Dean might not be up for, but he longed to let him know how beautiful he thought the sight.

All the while Aidan sat naked and untouched between his legs. He took his time slipping the digits out from the clenching warmth, wanting not to hurt him. That's when he noticed how Dean's hands strained against the bonds. 

"We really need something better next time," Aidan bit his lip.

As soon as Dean calmed down, he would let him go. But as of yet, it was still precarious. So, in order to lighten the wait, Aidan pressed two kisses against each wrist.

"Thank you."

"I-I want you to come too, Aidan," Dean insisted, sleepily. He looked up at his bound hands, then down at the brunet. "D'you want to fuck me?" he wondered.

Aidan shook his head. "Next time. I want to know what you think about it when it wears off." He looked down at himself, and he knew he would have to take care of that eventually.

He didn't dare ask Dean for the only thing that came to mind, although Aidan did unintentionally make a bit of a show of his conundrum. It was obvious.

"I can’t let you go like that," Dean said sadly. "You're so aroused, Aid. It wouldn't be fair." As he gazed at Aidan's turgid cock, his tongue unconsciously came out and swiped across his lower lip, remembering the taste from days earlier.

"We were only supposed to kiss," Aidan tried to play it down with a small laugh. "I'm already so lucky to have gotten more from you, and I can't undo you yet. It's fine."

He was obviously not fine.

"Then you'll just have to climb up here and put your dick in my mouth," Dean surmised. 

"...I could do that."

As if it hadn't crossed his mind before—which it had, and been rejected as a possible outcome every time—Aidan took his time giving Dean the chance to back out. When he didn't, he crawled further up, straddling him once again, and further still until his cock twitched against Dean's lips.

"Tell me if you're not comfortable."

His forehead already leaning against the wall, Aidan took in a deep breath and willed his sensitivity under control. Somewhat. Before he quite and utterly lost it.

"You taste amazing," Dean told him. "Please, do it. I won't break." he assured the brunet. "Want to make you feel good."

Dean didn't speak of the discomfort he was feeling in his hands and arms. He figured the numbness and pain was a small price to pay if it helped insure Aidan's trust in him. As long as Aidan kept kissing him, it kept the problem at bay. He desperately wanted Aidan to orgasm in hopes that it might hasten his freedom.

"Kiss me first?" he asked of Aidan. "Then, let me bring you off."

"If I kiss you—"

Aidan wouldn't be able to let him go for longer, if he did.

"Just once more, Aid," Dean begged. "God, your mouth... I can't get enough of you," his eyes bore testament to the seriousness of his plea. "You promised me hours and hours," he reminded him. "But I'm willing to let that slide if you just kiss me one more time."

While they were exactly the symptoms that Aidan had told himself not to give into, it took him less than seconds to break the resolution. As their lips joined in a searing kiss, he felt the change ebb back into Dean, and cursed himself for his weakness. Aidan would never be able to deny Dean anything. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

"Not fair," he sighed. "Not fair, Dean."

"Not fair I'm tied up and can't hold you," Dean told him, writhing as his cock started filling out again. "You'd best put that cock of yours somewhere soon, angel. Either hole, I'm not picky."

Aidan chose the one that talked. Maybe he was a bit rough about it, but he certainly didn't mind when Dean controlled the reflex that followed and sheathed him, effectively shutting up from questioning his moral code. He took a sharp intake of breath. Aidan had a hard time controlling his hips as they moved forward and reluctantly pulled back again, before burying himself in the heat of Dean's mouth once again.

If he was vocal, he would have uttered a string of profanities. Instead, Aidan's expression looped through a range of emotions, while his hand tangled in Dean's coarse hair.

Maybe it was Aidan's magical pheromones, or maybe he was just so desperate to please the brunet, but Dean had little trouble deep throating Aidan's cock, despite their awkward positioning. The pressure of Aidan and the _smell_ had Dean's fingers and cock twitching with the need to touch and rut.

He knew he'd be hoarse in the morning, probably sore too. His throat was taking a pounding. But it felt too good to stop. He couldn't have made Aidan stop if he wanted to. Instead, he swallowed convulsively, pulling Aidan deeper and deeper until the younger man came apart above him.

When he did, Aidan collapsed entirely. The motion of falling back had his cock slip out recklessly, half of his come shooting wayward and some of it still leaking and he panted hard, writhing on the bed.

Then Aidan laughed. "Oh good gods, Dean. That was amazing!" In ten different ways far more than he had planned for, but he was not going to regret any part of it. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Dean smiled tiredly. "You sure do make a mess, Aidan," he told the other man.

Now, he was desperate to, for lack of a better term, cuddle. 

"Wish you could untie me."

He regretted the words the second they left his lips. 

"I-I just want to hold you," he tried to explain.

"Let me see your eyes," the other man asked, exhausted.

"M-my eyes?" Dean looked up at him. "They feel fine. M'just tired," he told Aidan. "So tired."

Aidan peered into them. "Almost," he said. Doubtful, he paused, before justifying to himself, "Almost should be good," then to Dean, "Promise me you won't kiss me if I untie you."

"I promise, Aidan" Dean said immediately. "Promise on my life."

A short struggle later, Aidan undid the last of his bonds and fell back onto the mattress. He was a mess indeed, though his main concern was what Dean was going to do as soon as he was released. Although he was well spent, the brunet kept tabs on the owner of the bed to notice anything off.

Nonetheless he nodded full of conviction when he said, "We should find out whether we can get you resistant."

Dean sat up slowly, aware of Aidan's worried, watchful eyes. 

"I need to use the bathroom," Dean said softly, leaning over. A kiss aimed for Aidan's mouth veered to his forehead instead. Dean caressed his hair, but the gesture was clumsy. "I won't be long," he said. Getting up, he went into the trailer's small bath and closed the door.

But he _was_ long. After using the toilet, Aidan could hear Dean opening the medicine cabinet and struggling for what seemed like a painfully long time with a bottle of pills of some sort.

When Dean returned, he hoped to find Aidan sleeping.

He wasn't, of course. Aidan had been about to, until he heard the clatter of a bottle of pills and he feared he might have hurt his—well, lover? Boyfriend? They had never proclaimed it in words.

Not meaning to intrude if it was nothing however, he lay as naked as on his name day and waited, having rolled into his stomach, and pretended to be undisturbed.

"How are you feeling?"

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from Aidan, slowly opening and closing his hands. "I wanted you to be sure of me," Dean told him. "Sure I wouldn't—couldn't—hurt you," he clarified. "I may have encouraged you to tie my wrists too tightly. I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning," he told the brunet, laying down next to him and placing a cold hand in the small of Aidan's back.

Shamelessly uncaring for cleaning himself up by shower or wet towel, Aidan instantly turned contrite. "I'm so sorry. Let me see them..." He hoped the wrists weren't as black and blue as the image his mind supplied.

But Aidan couldn't help, as he waited for Dean's hands, to murmur, "It means a lot to me that you let me do it. I promise we'll try a different approach next time, until we either come up with a comfortable solution or we won't need it anymore. There'll be a next time, won't there be?"

Dean's wrists were red, raw in places and starting to swell a bit. It was too soon for bruising, but the potential was clear.

"I want you so much, Aidan," Dean told him. "But this..." _hurts me, degrades me, limits me_ "it's hard." He sighed and lay down next to his cast mate, slowly easing a sheet up over them. "Maybe Lee or Richard will have a suggestion. Other than taking me out into the wilderness and leaving me for dead."

"They wouldn't do that," Aidan felt like he needed to defend his two guardians. They could be stubborn, as well as terribly frustrating, but they only wanted what was best for Aidan. Right now, that meant making this work, because it took no genius to figure out Dean was in discomfort—if the redness on his wrists and the look in his eyes wasn't already a clear giveaway. Aidan didn't want that to grow into resentment.

He reached carefully for the hands and placed his palms on top of the raw surface. "It's not much..." But the swelling gradually abated, and the tingling sensation soon diminished. "I'm so grateful for what you did, Dean. We can make it work. I'll ask Richard. And if he doesn't know, I'll travel back to my parents and ask them myself. I don't care how. We'll find a way."

Tears of relief formed in Dean's eyes when he realized what Aidan had just done for him. 

"Aidan," he breathed in reverence, but had no other words. He pulled the brunet down into his embrace, entwining one hand in his curls.

A few minutes later, he asked, "Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

Aidan snorted, though gently. "Lots of things. You should know, your arms will still need to heal. I can't take that away. You just don't feel it, and it doesn't show, but it's still there. I'm sorry for having had to do that. Having to tie you up, I mean." There were many things that he didn't say, that he wanted to say, but there was a lump in his throat that prevented him from doing so.

"We should get out of bed soon."

"Not yet," Dean tightened the arm around the other man's shoulder in protest, pulling his face into the spot where his neck met his shoulder. "Can I just hold you for a bit longer?"

His stomach growled again, noisily, as if scolding him. Dean chuckled. "Then, perhaps, food?"

"Food sounds great," Aidan acquiesced. He didn't say anything else for a long while, before eventually—and fully against his better judgment—breaking the subject. "So, are we…?"

"Are we... an _item?_ " Dean finished the sentence, caressing Aidan's high cheekbone with one finger on his right hand, relieved when there was no tremble in the hand. "We can be, Aidan, if you want to."

A great worry fell off Aidan's features then. "I'd like that," he nodded, and nearly leaned in for another kiss. Catching himself inches from Dean's face, he pulled back in embarrassment. "Sorry. Got excited, I guess." He already had so many plans for Dean. He would show him his world, even being half a world way from it. "I promise I'll do my best. I like you."

"I like you too, Aidan," the blond responded, laying a kiss to the top of his head, inhaling deeply of Aidan's scent—a smell that transported him beyond a macadam-topped movie set and into another world.

Suddenly Aidan remembered, and he perked up.

"Did you draw me yesterday?"

"I-I started to," Dean told him, "but it never went anywhere." He didn't want to tell him why. "But I'd like to try again."

"I'm not going anywhere now, if you have nothing against me posing for you naked," Aidan offered, lazily. "And it seems like you're not very forgetful. I'm glad for that. But should you start forgetting, I would always be able to show you the drawing."

Dean flexed his right hand. It didn't give him any pain. "I suppose I could draw you now, Aid, if you wanted." He was loathe to leave the warmth of being under the covers with Aidan, but sat up slowly. "Get comfortable," he told the younger man, pulling on his sweat pants, a T-shirt and socks.

He went out to the living room and got his pad and charcoal kit out of his satchel. _Please, please, please,_ he silently willed his hand to cooperate this time. He swung by the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water and an apple, and returned to the bedroom, settling into an armchair near the bed. 

Upon returning, Aidan had already rearranged himself on top of the sheets and, having no idea how to pose, simply lay there with his upper body propped up by his elbows. "This isn't very comfortable," he admitted. Not for the long run, if Dean chose to take twenty minutes. "How do you want me?" Eager to be drawn, he was ready for whichever way Dean told him to pose.

“On your side would be more comfortable, I imagine,” Dean suggested, “and face me, please. Prop your head on your arm. Let the sheet pool around your thighs,” he bit his lower lip as Aidan rearranged himself. “Yeah, like that. You look very debauched, darling,” he told his lover, picking up a piece of charcoal.

Aidan flushed. "Is that what you want me to look like?" He looked down at his midsection before remembering he was posing for someone and quickly snapped back to his original position. "I imagined," he admitted, "you would want to draw me classily. Most nude models are drawn with class, aren't they?"

“Classy isn’t as much fun as real. I like the real you, the way you look right now,” he confessed, outlining the shape of Aidan’s body from head to toe, tracing the curves lovingly with his eyes. “Your hair—all tousled. Very sexy.”

"You shouldn't have gotten dressed for drawing me. I would have liked seeing you draw me naked as well." But despite his amused complaints, Aidan actually felt special. He once impishly let his hand trail away from his assumed position in favor of letting it trail across his stomach while gauging Dean's reaction, a sparkle caught in his eyes, but he moved back soon enough.

Dean did indeed follow the naughty hand’s path, licking his lips unconsciously. “Put the hand back on your stomach, right _there,_ ” he smiled. “At least I can pretend the hand is mine, if nothing else.”

"Oh?" Aidan quirked an eyebrow. "And what would your hand do there, I wonder?"

“My hand would just splay itself on your stomach… just like that,” he wrinkled his forehead as he drew, “feeling your stomach muscles flutter. Maybe while I nibbled on your ear, whispering all the things I’d like to do to you… and have you do to me.”

They were both heading into dangerous territory. Aidan knew it, so he treaded carefully. "It's not my stomach fluttering now," he said, trying hard to control the two spots that did flutter. "No, don't stop drawing, please."


	13. Claiming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and then they had sex.

\- - - - - 

Dean got out his shading tool and lovingly traced Aidan’s jawline on paper, using his thumb to gently smudge a crease in Aidan’s pursed lower lip. “You make such a beautiful subject,” he whispered, raising his eyes to Aidan’s. “I could spend hours just drawing your hair.”

Aidan looked down at the _other_ patch of hair and threw him a knowing look. He mentally berated himself; he was being childish and more than a little teasing, though there was no denying that when it came to Dean, he loved that. In the back of the trailer, another message reached his phone. He ignored it—if it was important, they would call.

"What are you going to do with the drawing once it's done?"

“You can have it, if you like,” Dean told him. “It won’t be nearly as detailed as I’d like, given the time constraints we have here...and the fact that you just can’t stay still,” he looked at Aidan scoldingly. “But I think you’ll find it captures you quite nicely.” He traced over the cat-like curve of Aidan’s left eyelid. 

"I would rather like a drawing of you, naked. Do you do self-portraits?"

Dean looked him square in the eye. “I could try, but you’d have to promise not to share it with anyone else. Do you swear?”

Aidan grinned. "Wouldn't share you for the world, trust me on that." He tried to rearrange himself back to his earlier position and stayed as still as he could be.

“Good, good,” Dean smirked, dimples blooming, “because this body isn’t for viewing by just anyone.” He began drawing the vee of Aidan’s crotch, meticulously shaping Aidan’s half-alert cock and balls nestled in a thatch of dark curls to rival those on his head. His face pinked up as less than pure thoughts entered his head.

Maybe Aidan’s nectar wasn’t completely out of his system after all.

"You're awfully quiet," the subject underneath his pencil quipped.

“I’m drawing a very sensitive spot,” Dean told him, eyes solemn.

The thoughts that went through Aidan's mind then made themselves obvious by physical response. "To think," he said, "of how fast this has gone. Look at us. Three days, and this is the effect you have on me. It's not fair."

Dean chuckled. “ _Now_ I have to either change the drawing or use my imagination to draw you as you were before,” he scolded him. “You’re lucky I’m close to being done.” Unconsciously, as he worked, his eyes kept drifting back to Aidan’s lovely erection.

"Sorry," Aidan muttered. As much as he loved to tease Dean, he only now understood that he would need to have his predicament seen to when he had time later. A little too late, he ran a hand through his hair with embarrassment. "Can't wait to see what you've made of me."

“I’ve only drawn you as you are, Aidan,” Dean told him breathlessly. “So lovely. You’ll see.” He eagerly put a few finishing touches on his sketch, then brought it to the bed. There was Aidan, in his naked glory, looking slightly away from the observer. It was a perfect replica of Aidan. Even though it was a black and white drawing, Aidan could tell that Dean had not drawn his eyes dark...but light. Amber.

Aidan immediately blinked and worried if he'd let his cover slip. That never usually happened unless he willed it so. Nonetheless, his hand traced the paper and the rough graphite. "It's beautiful..." Sitting up, he seated himself in front of Dean and offered the page back. "I'd like a copy, if that's alright. Frankly, I don't want to forget about today ever. I hope you won't, either."

“It’s yours, love,” Dean told him. “Keep it somewhere safe, away from the eyes of others, I can give it more details later, if you want,” he told Aidan. “Store it between two pieces of paper, so it doesn’t smudge.”

"But it's for you," Aidan looked up with big eyes. "For when you—" _For when you forget_.

“Aidan, I see you every day. We work together,” he put his hand over Aidan’s. “You’ll just have to keep me from forgetting some other way.” He leaned over and planted a kiss to Aidan’s cheek.

The hint of a smile reappeared on Aidan.

"Can I tie you up again?"

Dean shook his head. “No.” He caressed Aidan’s face, then let his hand trail down over Aidan’s neck, shoulder, flank, until he held Aidan’s hip in his hand. "I’ll keep my mouth away from yours,” he assured him, dipping down to engulf Aidan’s erection in its warm heat.

Aidan immediately surrendered. His body hit the sheets and his chest arched upward. "Got it," he nodded absently, and this time his eyes behind their lids did flare up brilliantly. "I'm not going to get out of this trailer all day, will I?"

He was cool with that.

Dean’s strong hands held Aidan’s hips steady, and he was able to treat the organ—and himself—much more gently this time around, using his tongue to full advantage to milk small cries of pleasure from Aidan. His fingers left dark charcoal smudges behind.

Dean took his time, bringing Aidan to the brink, only to stave him off repeatedly.

"Oh, Dean, don't—" Aidan tossed his head, biting the inside of his hand, soon unraveling. "I can't—" He hated the tiny interruptions, as well as Dean constantly changing gears. Oh, who was he kidding? He loved it, but it became damn frustrating when release practically leaked from his cock, not allowed to burst.

At last he wrought himself free and writhed on the bed, looking through dark, lust-hazed eyes at Dean. In that instant, Aidan was an animal; dangerous, threatening, but also challenging. He rolled onto his front and bit into the pillow.

“Aidan, love,” Dean crawled up next to him. “Are you all right? Are you wanting me to—to—” he lay kisses to Aidan’s shoulder and mid back, “do you want to be fucked?”

"Oh, get on with it," Aidan growled, different both from his human and his fae form, while muscles moved under the skin of his back and he pressed his forehead into the pillow.

Dean wrinkled his forehead in confusion, but found himself reaching for his nightstand drawer, where he kept a small plastic container of lube. This would be the first time the lube would be used on someone other than himself. This made him grin, as he coated his fingers liberally. He hoped Aidan was forgiving. He’d only done this once before.

He pushed his way gently between Aidan’s thighs, moving them apart and exposing Aidan’s opening to the mid-afternoon light. “Here we go then,” he told his bed partner, and began slowly circling the furled muscle with two slick fingers, willing it to open to his ministrations.

Aidan didn't wince. He was too far gone, too far lost to his lust, to do anything else than press back against the first finger. That sensible part of his mind screamed that he needed to wait, that he should do this when he wasn't so affected. It would be much better when he could commit every touch to memory. Aidan quite blocked out that sensible part. It had been so very long, and his body yearned for union as much as his heart did.

"Ah," he breathed out, muffled against the pillow, "Yes. There."

The second finger was equally welcomed, but already slightly too much.

Despite Aidan’s seeming willingness, Dean could feel a great deal of tension in his muscles. Dean, of course, interpreted this as fear. “What can I do to put you at ease, angel?” he asked, rubbing what he hoped was a soothing circle on Aidan’s mid back. He added a bit more lube and began scissoring his fingers. “Please tell me if I’m going too fast,” he begged. “I’m not much of an expert at this.”

Underneath him, Aidan pushed himself up to his haunches, while his head remained pressed against the pillow and his elbows and knees supported him. "You're doing, ah— you're doing fine. Don't worry about hurting me. You won't."

Dean was going to have to change his bedsheets. The stains that Aidan left on the white were aplenty. "I don't care how many times you've done this before. Practice on me."

Dean’s cock leapt to complete hardness at Aidan’s words and he curled his fingers to try to find that particular spot that he knew would bring pleasure to his companion. _There,_ he smiled, as Aidan shuddered. He rubbed over it gently a few more times, then harder, feeling Aidan’s relax beneath him, his body coated with a sheen of sweat.

“Mm, baby boy,” Dean cooed. “You like this,” he observed, adding a third finger. He was eager to sheath himself inside Aidan’s tight heat, but not so eager that he’d hurt him.

"So much," Aidan keened. He loved it. As soon as the third was added, he wondered if he would be able to take a fourth. Never mind that it would be awkward for Dean's hands; Aidan wanted more. The ministrations pulled him apart and put him back together. "Play with me," he encouraged—and would later be appalled at his audacity—"Try me. More. Less. But don't leave me. I wouldn't—"

“Don’t you worry,” Dean assured him, bringing more of his body in contact with Aidan’s posterior. “I’m not going anywhere until you’re wrung out, love.” He reached a hand around front and took hold of Aidan’s hot length, holding it firmly as he continued to stretch him. When Dean felt confident Aidan was as ready as he could be, he leaned forward and whispered into the shell of Aidan’s ear. “Are you ready, Aid? Ready to have me inside you?” The urge to kiss Aidan was strong, so he had to move away quickly. He coated himself with lube, awaiting Aidan’s go-ahead.

The response to his words was immediate. Pushing back against the fingers, Aidan nodded hard. "All of you. Claim me, Dean. Do it."

Aidan should have perhaps warned Dean that _claiming him_ was not just a manner of speech, not when it came to him. But he couldn't speak, nor did he want to, and he wanted so desperately to belong to him.

The term “claim” made Dean uncomfortable. People were not possessions to be taken and used. He knew that far too well. 

“I _love_ you, Aidan,” Dean told him. “I’m not marking you, I’m just loving you,” he clarified, lining himself up and carefully easing himself inside the hot body before him. The heat and tightness were overwhelming, so he added a bit more lubrication, hoping to make it comfortable for Aidan.

He reached around front again, bringing Aidan’s flagging erection back to life, and eased very slowly into him until he was fully sheathed. The contact of his testicles against the scorching skin of Aidan’s backside made him shudder.

The words hit home like a rejection, until Aidan forced himself to consider his distress. For the race of men, what Dean said was loving. That was all he needed. They would have plenty of time together. Dean would be able to claim him as his own later.

Despite his thoughts, he bucked up when cold lube circled his stretched entrance, for the sudden sensitivity sent another spike to his cock. "I love you," he smiled back, exhausted. "Make love to me, Dean. But please don't stop. It's so good."

“Couldn’t stop now if I tried,” Dean confessed, slowly beginning to move inside Aidan. He tried to remember where the prostate was located and endeavored to angle his thrusts to come in contact with it. The heat, the tightness, the overwhelming sensation of fucking someone for the first time—it was sensory overload, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last.

Aidan wanted him to have it; he wanted Dean to follow him shortly. But Aidan was nowhere near finished with him, and he knew he could drag this out for a while yet if he wanted. He brought one hand down and wrapped it around Dean's, squeezing harder. He smiled when the hint was taken, and proceeded to have his gasps wrung from him. With one hand clutching the pillow, the other the sheets under him, Aidan was shoved up against the bed time and again before he pushed back hard, sheathing his lover fully, and cried out.

Dean was relieved he wasn’t facing Aidan, because he knew there was no way he could avoid kissing him with that wet, hot mouth so easily accessible. Even now, he found himself straining for it, but their height difference prevented it and he huffed in frustration.

“Addicted to you, I think,” he panted out between thrusts. “Every part of you,” he admitted, and it made him a little nervous. “Ah, god!” he cried, when Aidan squeezed him tightly with his internal muscles.

Aidan's muscles convulsed, and still Dean moved inside him. It was the most exquisite sensation, especially now that his grasp had gotten much tighter—almost unbearably so. "Be addicted to me," he whispered, "I have no idea how I'd survive if you took this away from me." To think he had wanted to wait. They hadn't kissed, and it felt right; there had been no legitimate reasons not to do this at all.

Dean eased his weight down on top of Aidan and drove him into the mattress, one hand trapped beneath him, still working his dripping cock. They were rutting, jumbled and covered with sweat and other bodily fluids. He could actually hear the creaking sound of the trailer’s axels as it too rocked with their passion. Finally, he aimed three rapid, sharp jabs at Aidan’s prostate, bidding him to come.

When Aidan fell at the last, it was messy and violently and the lowest growl escaped his throat, right before his elbows gave in. He laughed then, for it was beautiful and all-consuming. "Dean," he breathed, "By the gods, Dean. How..."

“What?” Dean said, tiredly, still floating down from his orgasm. “You were nothing short of animalistic, Aidan. It was hot. And certainly unexpected,” he added, smacking Aidan’s ass gently as a distraction as he pulled out.

Aidan fell limply down on the bed, but still he was grinning. "Sorry about that." He pulled Dean down on the bed, careful not to let him crumple the drawing, and pressed their lips together.

Dean was moving the drawing to the bedside table, but it fluttered to the floor as Aidan began kissing him. “You said no kissing,” he murmured around Aidan’s insistent lips, burrowing his hands in Aidan’s hair to anchor him in place. 

Frightened eyes stared up at him at once. "Oh god," Aidan stammered when he realized what he was doing. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. Let me go. Before it kicks in. I should—please let me go." It had happened on impulse; completely loose from his orgasm. He hadn't thought about it. Aidan tried to get up to get off the bed and make his way out. 

“Well, you’re naked. At least I don’t have to worry about getting tasered again,” Dean huffed in his ear, pulling the blankets up over them both and bracing his knees on either side of Aidan’s slim hips. “What’s the hurry?”

"Dean, please." Aidan cringed. He cursed inwardly at himself. They had been doing so well, before he had to fuck it up. Equal parts anger at himself and fear for Dean made his hands fumble, while they should be pushing him off. "I love you. Don't do this. You'll hurt me."

Dean’s face fell. “No I won’t, Aidan.” And although it was nearly impossible to do so, he climbed off of the younger man and rolled over onto his back. His hands, itching for something to hold, clutched a pillow to his chest. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt before,” he said softly. He found he couldn’t even look at Aidan without wanting to kiss him again.

Next to him, Aidan crawled up and withdrew into the corner of the bed, drawing the sheets up around his form. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his eyes were big with fear. Nevertheless, here sat Dean, controlling himself in a way that nobody had done for him before.

Knowing that he shouldn't stay there or he'd only make it harder, he quickly shuffled off the bed and started pulling on his jeans, cringing only shortly at really needing a shower.

"I should—" he pointed to the door. "For now, until you're feeling better. I'll be back, I promise you I'll be. You stopped for me..."

Dean closed his eyes and rolled into his side, facing away from Aidan. “You _should_ go,” he insisted, not wanting Aidan to see the tears in his eyes. “This is...this is reckless,” he concluded. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” He felt like a cold, giant hand were squeezing his heart and he couldn’t breathe. “It hurts me too much seeing fear in your eyes when you look at me.”

"I love you," Aidan said with surety, for he saw the sacrifice. Then, he made sure he was off.

Outside, he sat down in amazement, ignoring Adam strolling by, other than throwing him what he hoped looked like a casual smile.

Dean had managed to suppress it.

———-

Aidan had left his phone behind. Dean found it thirty minutes later when he’d finally had the will to get out of bed. He scrolled through the messages that he’d heard being left while they’d been amorous. _Richard, Richard, Richard._ He sighed.

As much as Richard made him nervous, he wasn’t nearly as afraid of him as he was of Lee. Perhaps Richard was the one person who could help him put the pieces of the puzzle together. He loved Aidan, but he couldn’t bear all the codicils and fear that came along with it.

Loving should be a simple give and take. No rules. He shouldn’t have to be tied up to protect Aidan. Aidan should be able to kiss him without either of them going mad with angry lust. There had to be a solution to all of this. He decided to take a shower and go see Mr. Armitage.

\- - - - -

Richard hadn't planned on company. It was a nice and pleasant Sunday, albeit rainy; he had no trouble with rain, and he certainly had no trouble with being allowed time to read. Nonetheless, he knew better places to spend it than to be holed up in his trailer like most days. Having found himself a pleasant coffee shop downtown, he turned the page of the novel he was currently reading and glanced once at his phone.

Aidan hadn't responded. Well, Aidan often did not respond. But many things had happened, and he was worried.

But then, a message popped up. “It’s Dean. Can we meet? It’s about Aidan.” the text said.

After staring at the phone for a long time, Richard put his book away.

"How did you get Aidan's phone?"

“He left it at my place, haven’t returned it yet. Can we meet?”

“Yes, you mentioned that. Are you going through his phone, Dean?"

_Dick,_ Dean reacted, then texted. “No, just using it for easy way to contact you. Will you see me or not?” 

Richard frowned. There went his carefree Sunday, though he was slightly curious about why Dean wanted to see him, since it was probably about Aidan. "Green Land. I'll be waiting."

“brt” Dean texted back. He arrived five minutes later, an umbrella in his hand.   
“Hello, Richard,” he sat down across from the Brit.

"You're fast," he was greeted. Richard's book was still on the table, but he soon pocketed it. It would not be read anyway. "Can I get you anything? It's not an emergency, is it? Why you wanted to see me?"

“If the waitress comes ‘round, a coffee will work just fine,” Dean told him. “Can I talk to you frankly? About Aidan?” he wondered. “Because if I can’t, I’ll save you the time and leave now.”

Richard treaded carefully from that question on. He straightened, before inclining his head. "You may, but you're aware that I may be biased in his favour. If you've come here to talk ill of him—" He sighed. "—but you aren't."

“Richard, I’m baised in his favor as well,” Dean told him. “I’m in love with him. I have been since the moment we met. I just didn’t realize it at the time. That’s why I here. I need your help.”

"...Wooing him."

“Uh, _no,_ ” Dean pulled his chair in further and leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s already been wooed, Rich, if you catch my drift. We’ve been seeing each other.”

The corner of Richard's mouth twitched. He covered it up by taking a sip from his coffee. "You mean to say, you've—" he gestured with his hands, meaning intercourse, but reluctant to speak of it. "I take it you've treated him well, because if you hadn't, you would not be here. You would be running hard."

“Our relationship is consensual, if that’s what you’re implying,” Dean said evenly. “But it’s not without...hurdles. I am guessing I don’t have to tell you what those hurdles are.”

"He's worth every obstacle. I'm not going to help you overcome them, Dean. You knew he wouldn't be easy."

Dean scoffed. “Wow, okay. And here I thought you cared about him. About his happiness. I was hoping you might be able to give me some honest answers.”

Richard paused, before he eased up. "I'm sorry, that was out of line. I should ask you, are you looking for shortcuts as it looks like you are, or looking for explanations?"

Dean looked down at his hands, pulling his long sleeves self-consciously over the bruises that had appeared on his wrists. He looked around carefully and said so that only Richard could hear, “I love him, Richard. But I know that you—and he, and Lee—well, that you aren’t entirely human. I don’t know what you are. He didn’t tell me, of course. But when we were...you know...his eyes changed color. And the kisses! Did you know that Lee kissed me a week ago and took me to his trailer? That entire night is a blur to me.”

"I...did not." Richard's eyes skitted elsewhere while he took in that information. "What he does privately is none of my concern." But it didn't sit well. None of it did. And then, _then_ , Dean talked like he knew. Scratch that, Richard was certain that he knew.

He folded his hands and cunningly bent around the topic. "You mean to say you slept with Lee last week, and this week you're convinced you love Aidan."

“I have been convinced of my love for Aidan for some time,” Dean told him. “But I began having feelings that you and he might be a couple—because of the physical closeness that you share. I made the mistake of asking Lee about it. Instead of telling the truth, he told me you _were_ together, then he conned me into his bed,” Dean spat. “So yes, that part is true. I slept with Lee last week. But I didn’t want to.”

Surprisingly, that placated the other man. He wrapped his hands around his mug and took in the warmth, before sitting up when a waitress passed them by. "Excuse me?" Looking at Dean then, he expected him to place his order.

As soon as she left, Richard breathed out. "I'm sorry for my questions. You're new in his life. Not in ten years would you be able to fully understand him, so I try to take that into consideration. I'm sure that what you think you saw in his eyes was a shift of light. He considers it his little thing, the way his eyes look different in different light. But you haven't asked me the relevant questions that you came here for, have you?"

“Richard, I don’t know what the relevant questions are,” Dean said sadly. “He’s been hurt, in the past, that I know. He’s afraid I’m going to hurt him, too. He tased me the first time I kissed him. The second time he tied my hands so tightly that...well, see for yourself,” he exposed one of his wrists to Richard. 

“I can’t live like this, Richard,” Dean admitted, a tear running down his cheek. “I feel like I’m only hurting him by loving him. He says he loves me, but it’s clear he doesn’t trust me. I would never, ever hurt him. How could anyone?” he asked, voice shaking. “So, no, I don’t know the questions. I feel as if I should just walk away and try to forget about him for his own good.”

He looked up at Richard. “But I just can’t do that. I feel as he’s a part of me now.”

Richard sighed. "It would be easier for both you and him if you walked away."

He stopped when the lady returned with a cappuccino and only resumed when she was outside hearing range.

"Look, I'm sure Lee told you. He goes about it all the wrong ways, but he too just wants to see Aidan happy. The key to Aidan is to be patient. There will be times when you are going to hurt him without intending to. No doubt he will do the same to you. But if you truly love him the way you say you do, then your patience will be rewarded. Aidan's as loyal as he wears his heart on his sleeve. And he deserves someone who goes through that trouble for him."

Richard smiled gently. "So you see, I can't give you solutions, but perhaps I can help you put things into perspective."

Dean took a sip of his coffee, and nodded. “Losing him scares me, but hurting him scares me much more. The kissing, Richard. How can I endure it?”

"Ah. Truthfully...I think he was right to tie you up. He asked Lee several times in the past. We don't have the answer. If we would, we would have shared it with him. It's the cause of most, if not all of the pain he's been through." Richard looked apologetically. "I'm sorry, Dean. If you want to kiss him, I haven't got the answer for you, other than the method he used, or weakening yourself."

"What do you mean, 'weakening myself'?"

"Lessen the susceptibility to the response. Well, you know," Richard gestured awkwardly, "Drugs. Mild sedation. Weaken yourself physically, so that if he wants to stop, he can push you away, and the urge is less strong in you."

Dean sighed. Not the answer he was hoping for. “We can never have a normal relationship, can we?” he blinked and tear ran down each cheek. Hastily, he wiped them away with his napkin. “I-I should go, Richard. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

"Probably not. If normal is what you want, you'll not find it with Aidan. That doesn't mean it's not worth it." Richard reached for Dean's hand. "Stay awhile. Now that you've gotten this into my head, I don't think I can read anymore anyway. You seem like you're a man who cares. If me taking away some hurdles might help you make an effort for him, I wouldn't want you to go."

“It’s more than just Aidan,” Dean confessed. “It’s this movie, this cast. I feel like I belong here. I don’t want to walk away from this. I feel like I’m part of something much, much bigger than any of us. Something that will live on after I die. Do you know know what I mean?”

Richard humored Dean and nodded, but he truly didn't. "But why would you think of leaving?"

“To protect him,” Dean admitted. “From me.”

"Do you love him?"

Dean swiped his hand over his eyes once more. “Yes. Yes, I love him.”

"And he? Does he love you?"

“I believe he does.”

"Then don't think about running away from this," Richard said. "How can you protect him when you're not around?"

“What if what needs protecting from is me?” Dean wondered sadly. 

Richard shook his head. "Dean, you're one of the first people to care about hurting him. I would rather have you near him than someone else who catches his fancy and has no such concerns. And yes, you might end up hurting him. Yes, Lee will give you a great deal of grief for it if you do. But at least you know what will happen and you care."

“He says I’ll forget everything he and I do together. Is that true?”

"Ah. Well, it tends to happen after you kiss him, and then it's most often not really forgetting, but rather like you've been drunk. You get into this primal rush in which, frankly, you don't think much, and nor does your long term memory store much."

Richard realized that may be too theoretical, so he rephrased, "It means, the part where you're under the influence runs the risk of being forgotten."

Dean nodded. “Richard, why? Why is it like that? What _are_ you?”

"You must never know."

Dean didn’t speak for a few minutes. He drained the last of his coffee and set the mug down softly. “Thank you, Richard, for your time,” he said at last. “I’ll see you on the set tomorrow, I suppose.” 

Without another word, he pushed back his chair, got up and left the café.

A while outside, the phone buzzed one last time.

"I am sorry. It's for his safety. See you tomorrow." Richard. 

Dean frowned and tucked the phone away into his pocket. He felt he should go see Aidan one more time, and that returning his phone would be an excellent way to facilitate it.

But he wasn’t ready to face him yet. He was having a hard time putting his feelings into words. He felt like the only time he could fully express how he felt about Aidan was when he was drawing him. He wasn’t allowed to touch him passionately without restrictions, couldn’t kiss him. And the constant fear of doing something against Aidan’s will weighed heavily on Dean. 

_I’ll give it twelve hours,_ he told himself. In twelve hours he’d have his head on straight.

\- - - - - 

The scenes they turned out to shoot on Monday morning were entirely unaccording to plan.

The Rivendell set bustled with commotion. Adam sat at his usual spot near the fire and played with some of his character's knitting gear in between takes, while his eyes flicked between cast members. 

Graham paced around, and Mark crossed his path more than once. Everyone was restless; they hadn't been able to prepare this, as they weren't supposed to do these takes until a week later and everybody was reading lines in between the first few takes to get up to scratch.

"What happened to the entrance scene?" Adam bemoaned.

"Peter..." Ian started slowly.

"I suppose I didn't have to get into gear." Hugo.

"Where are Aidan and Richard anyway?"

Peter pinched his eyebrows and sighed. He didn't have the heart to say what he meant to say, so he cleared his throat and said, "They're both ill. I need Richard for the original scene. I'm sorry, guys, we'll shoot them as soon as he is better."

Dean shot to his feet and approached Peter. “They were both fine last evening, Peter,” he told the harried director. “Is there something you aren’t saying?”

But Peter merely looked away. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he told him. “I can’t tell you anything more.” He turned to the rest of the cast and began giving some orders. 

Dean didn’t hear a word of Peter’s instructions. He ran from the sound stage and burst out into the bright morning sunlight, feeling dread in the pit of his stomach. He kept running, long blond wig streaming behind him, until he reached Aidan’s trailer. He knocked twice, then burst inside. Aidan was gone. The trailer seemed even more sterile than before. “No!” he cried out to no one in particular. “No, no, no, no!”

_He’d_ caused this. He’d gone to Richard and shared his secrets about Aidan. They’d taken him away, back to...wherever they were from. Weeping, he sank onto one of the armchairs in Aidan’s small living room. 

“Where are you, Aid?” he sobbed, rocking. “Where are you?”


	14. Daoine Sidhe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out the truth, and goes after Aidan.

\- - - - - 

Dean thought he heard a fluttering noise coming from the bedroom. He got up to investigate, but the room was empty. However, in the center of Aidan's bed lay a piece of paper.

Upon closer investigation, Dean found it to be a map—of Ireland. A circle had been drawn on the left side of the country above a town called Galway. Underneath it, in perfect script was written:

**_Daoine Sidhe._ **

**_If you want him, come find him._ **

Dean's worst fears were confirmed. Aidan was long gone.

He sat numbly on the bed, holding the piece of paper in his hand. "Day-oh-ee-nee Sid-hee?" he spoke aloud. Was it a town? A club? He decided he needed to do some research, and fast.

Still dressed as Fili, Dean jogged home to his own trailer, where his laptop buzzed to life under his fingers. He typed “Daoine Sidhe” into Google and was overwhelmed by the images and stories he was bombarded with.

_Daoine Sidhe (Gaelic: pronounced “Thee-na Shee")_

Dean tested the words on his tongue, muttering that it was pronounced nothing like it was spelled. 

_The highest rank of faeries, often simply called the Sidhe (pronounced "shee"), also called the Shining Ones, Fair folk, the Gentry, Tylwyth Teg) pronounced "terlooth tay"), Aos Sidhe, Daoine Sidhe, the Good Neighbors, Alfs, and Elves, to name a few of the more common names. Sidhe is also used as a general term for all faeries and is, in Irish, the word that means fairy hill. Stories of the Daoine Sidhe are found among the Irish, Scottish, English, Welsh, Germanic and Norse peoples, as well as the lands settled by these cultures. They live in mounds or hills, which are also called sidhe in Irish Gaelic, and which may only be entered by magic. The prohibition against disturbing the mounds of the Daoine Sidhe are so strong among the Irish that even today roadways are built around them instead of over or through them._

_The Daoine Sidhe are described as being taller than most people—probably around six feet. They are usually extremely pale with blonde or red hair, but brown or black hair has also been described. The Fair Folk are inhumanly beautiful, and although they lack the pointed ears that modern lore gives them, they could never be mistaken for human as they glow from within with the power of Faery. In some stories they may also appear dressed like anyone else, except for the unhuman air about them. The Daoine Sidhe are generally described as living in social groups similar to the structure of human society, with a set hierarchy._

“No,” Dean said out loud, burying his face in his hands. “No, I’m sorry, but _no fucking way._ ” He pushed away from his laptop and stood up, pacing the room for a few minutes, digesting what he’d just read. After a few calming breaths, he sat back down.

_They are known to be masters of semantics and often mislead mortals while telling only the absolute truth, and their magical illusions, called glamour, can not be told from reality making them extremely tricky to deal with._

Dean's mind instantly flew to Lee's ability to hide his bite marks and hickeys from the women in the make-up department. And to Aidan spinning a terrific yarn about the missing ponies at his callback audition. Dean’s eyes misted up again. 

“Stop it,” he scolded himself. “It’s just not possible.”

_Sex is as normal as shaking hands. It is not something always done in private. The Seelie Court does try to keep any outward displays to a minimum, having adopted some of humanity's morals. The Unseelie however could care less what others think, and go on about it here or there, whever they wish and when. If a sidhe does not tone down their magic when having sex with a human, they can cause the human to become addicted. This can cause the elf-struck human to wither and die in want of sidhe flesh._

Dean shivered, remembering not wanting to eat or sleep, just to lie in bed with Aidan. _Oh God, oh God…_

_The Sidhe do not really know age, they do not age like humans do. However few at this time are over the age of 1,000 human years._

_Fae eyes are not like human eyes—though often when among humans they slightly alter their features so as to appear more human. When seen as they are, fae eyes are tri-colored with a second pale ring of color around the first._

_Following their defeat by the Milesians, those of the Tuatha de Danann who decided to stay in Ireland made their homes under the hollow hills or 'raths' where they became the Daoine Sidhe...the most important member of the Daoine Sidhe today is Finvarra, the High King of the Irish faeries who is also thought by some to be the King of the Dead. He still holds court in his palace beneath the Faerie hill of Knockmaa, in County Galway, north of Galway city. There is a ruin on the hill marked on Ordnance Survey maps as "Finvarra's Castle." It is mentioned in manuscripts stretching back many centuries._

Dean O'Gorman was 35 years old. He did _not_ believe in faeries. But, as he sat on Aidan's bed, mourning his lost love, there was no question in his mind that he had to pack and leave for Ireland immediately. 

But not without telling at least one person beforehand.

\- - - - - 

Adam looked at him oddly when he snuck onto the set.

"Where've you been?" he hissed between pursed lips, not wanting to alert the others just yet. "We've been looking all over for you. You just took off. People thought about checking your trailer, while others claimed you probably just had to go to the restroom, but then you stayed away for _twenty minutes_. Peter's in a right fit, man. You'd better go see him before he finds out he's not the first person to catch sight of you. I don't know what happened, but if you tell me, it's bad enough for him that the shooting days got mixed up because of two people calling in sick."

He underlined that by nudging him forward. "See him. I mean it, Dean."

Dean nodded somberly, like a man in a dream, and approached Peter. 

He cleared his throat to get the director's attention and began, “Peter, I'm terribly sorry for vanishing like that.”

From checking something on the monitor, Peter looked up, and sighed in relief. "Dean. Thank goodness. For a moment there I thought—well. It's good to see you. Where have you been?"

“Aidan's _gone_ ,” he stressed sadly. “I think …” he paused, not sure what he wanted to tell Jackson. “I need to find him, Peter.” 

"You found out about that, didn't you?" Peter sighed and took a seat. He bode everyone else to leave for a minute. "Richard too," he then said, "And Lee's nowhere to be found either. Do you have any idea what has happened?"

“I-I don’t think I’m supposed to speak about it,” Dean told him. “I'm not even supposed to _know,_ technically. But I do, and I have to go after him. Even if it means losing my job here,” he confessed. 

"Dean..." Peter ran a hand through his hair, exhausted. "You're saying they won't be coming back?"

“I know they love it here. Love _this_ ,” Dean made a weak encompassing gesture with one hand. “Especially Aidan. I'm not sure he went willingly. I think they've taken him back to Ireland, Peter.”

"But why would they take him back to Ireland? Should I alert the authorities?"

“I—” Dean began, then halted. “No, I don’t think that would make a difference, Peter. But I think, maybe, if I travel there, it might. I can certainly understand that you'd want to replace me over this, and finding Aidan is certainly worth that, to me. I _have_ to go after him,” he insisted.

Peter looked more glum by the second. "Well," he said after a long silence, "how long do you think you need?"

“I don't want to guess,” Dean bit his lower lip. _I may not make it back,_ he brooded. “Two weeks? I’ll do everything in my power to get them all to return.”

Two weeks was a long time for production, but it would be short for Dean. At last Peter nodded. "I'll try to shoot as much as I can without the four of you, and perhaps I can arrange for the break to be reshuffled. But come back to me, Dean. With them if you can. If you can't get them, then all I ask is that you return to shoot your parts. I don't like doing this."

“I know, Peter, and I understand. You took a big chance hiring me and it seems I'm letting you down after all. I'm so sorry,” he turned his face so Peter couldn’t see the tears that were forming. “Coming here turned out to be much more of a… life changer, than I expected,” he confessed. “I—thank you. I won't let you down,” he added, leaving Jackson's side.

"Oh, Dean!" Peter called after him. When he turned, Peter looked older than he had ever before. "Keep your phone on, and please keep me updated. Give me something to go by. You know the size of this production. If there's reason to worry, I need to know it."

“I will, Peter,” Dean assured him, and left for make-up to be taken out of his Fili costume for what he was sure would be the last time. 

Behind him, Peter sank down in a chair and wondered if the production was going to survive four of their lead roles taking off.

\- - - - - 

Dean had been lucky enough to catch a flight out of Wellington with minimal layovers that got him all the way to Dublin within 24 hours. He even had time to pack and hit up a bookstore on the way to the airport. His carry-on bag was stuffed with books on fairy lore. One, in particular, had caught his eye. It was a larger sized book called “Faeries,” with beautiful illustrations inside. Since getting on the plane and settling back in his seat, he’d been reading about the Daoine Sidhe. He dozed off somewhere over Asia and dreamed he was dancing with Aidan, wearing a crown of flowers.

Dublin itself turned out to be dreary. A week-long nearly continuous downpour had turned soil into mud and the streets into a smattering of pools where long trousers were not a smart thing, but necessary regardless. As the bus ride took Dean away from the industrial site of the airport and further into the land, the wet green of the hills turned the rain that glistened in a stray ray of sunlight into something beautiful.

Soon enough, he found himself in a small local inn in Castlehacket, that—since it hardly had customers this time of the year—had plenty of space for him. An old lady with half her teeth lost to age smiled at him as she did the dishes. "A customer, now have we?"

“Um, yes, hi,” Dean gave her a most charming smile. “One, checking in,” he looked around warily. “I’m not sure for how long,” he added, laying his camera bag on the counter.

"Important business, aye?" She smiled, dried her hands, and hurried out from behind the bar. "Hold on, let's get you properly checked in now, shall we? So," she opened her register, sat down, and looked up at her only guest with a disheartening smile. "Mr..."

“O'Gorman. Dean O'Gorman,” he saw her glance up in confusion when his Irish surname didn't match up with his pronounced Kiwi accent. “My father is of Irish descent,” he felt the need to explain.

"Oh," she laughed and waved it off, "That's what them Americans always love to boast about, isn't it? But you're not American. You're not here as a tourist and delve into the land of myth, are you?"

“I’ve always wanted to see Ireland,” he told her. “I recently came into some money, and some time. Seemed like a perfect opportunity.”

"But then you _are_ a tourist?" The old lady quickly pulled a few leaflets from a stand behind her. "There you go in that case, Mr. O'Gorman. There's some tours in the neighborhood, and you should really try these—" she circled an advertisement of a restaurant, "—and these. They're not too expensive, and the food is great. Are you familiar with Galway?"

“I’ve been reading about it,” he confessed. “My little sister has always had a bit of a fascination with faerie legend. She’d be really angry with me if I didn’t go out there and get some photos,” he smiled at the older woman. “In fact, it’s to be my first stop. I’ve already rented a car.”

"Oh!" The old lady shook her head, looked at the clock—it was only two in the afternoon—and frowned. "Best save that for tomorrow, sir. Today is not a good day to be chasing faeries, and I'm sure you must be very tired from your trip."

“Why is today a bad day?” he wondered.

She pointed outside. "There's a full moon outside tonight. It's an ill-conceived plan to go looking for them during the full moon."

“I'm a little confused,” he pursued. “Isn't the full moon supposed to be the _best_ time to enter a faerie hill? I-I’ve been reading up on it,” he blushed a bit.

" _Enter_?" The lady laughed and muttered a few sentences in something decidedly not English. "You're looking to enter a sidhe? Surely...no." She stepped away from the counter. "I'll tell you what. You stay inside tonight, and I will tell you about them in the morning. But please do not go outside, and certainly do not try to enter one. You'll stay there, buried like all those others that never returned."

Dean was taken aback. “B-buried?” he breathed. Surely this was part of the spiel given to tourists to keep them away from Finvarra's castle at night. Her words made him even more determined to find Dean and assured him that tonight he stood his best chance.

She reluctantly handed him a key, and took his suitcase to carry up one flight of stairs. Determined to talk him into something else, she started about the restaurants, and the wonderful view from the hill on a sunrise. "You really ought to rest first though," she nodded, before opening his door and leaving his luggage at the door. "There you go."

“Thank you, ma'am,” he handed her a few bills, not really looking at them. She was right. He would take a little nap. What he'd planned couldn't take place until it was dark anyway. 

He set the alarm on his cell phone to wake him in a few hours, then lay down on the bed, opening up the “Faeries” book and re-reading a passage he'd marked.

_Some legends assert that the only safe way to investigate a fairy ring is to run around it nine times. This affords the ability to hear the fairies dancing and frolicking underground. According to a 20th-century tradition of Northumberland, this must be done under a full moon, and the runner must travel in the direction of the sun; to go widdershins allows the fairies to place the runner under their sway. To circle the ring a tenth time is foolhardy and dangerous Thomas Keightley recorded a similar tradition from Northumberland in 1905: "The children constantly run this number [nine times], but nothing will induce them to venture a tenth run." A story from early 20th century England says that a mortal can see the sprites without fear if a friend places a foot on that of the person stepping beyond the circle's perimeter. Another superstition says that wearing a hat backwards can confuse the fairies and prevent them from pulling the wearer into their ring.”_

These were the last words Dean read as sleep pulled him under, the tome open on his chest. 

As night fell, so did the landlady sink into her chair in front of the television, and fell asleep. She never noticed anyone sneaking past her. But then, every one of the doors out of the house stood slightly ajar, a mild draft pulling through the cottage. She let out a mumble when Dean walked past her. Other than that, she posed no threat.

Dean, with the help of GPS, drove his rental into the lush green countryside. The sun was rapidly dropping and a gorgeous shining full moon was rising in the east. “This is madness,” he told himself, pulling his car to stop once he reached his destination. He hastily pulled his satchel and camera bag from the backseat, then took six Benadryl allergy capsules with water. He had read that being slightly impaired or sleepy might help his cause. He didn’t want to take any chances.

It was growing dark, and the sidhe—or hill—was much bigger than the hills back home. While far from being a mountain, it took him more than a few moments to reach the top. The exertion sent the medication pumping through his bloodstream and he swayed uneasily on his feet for a moment when he reached the summit.

Even after the crash course in Fae he’d put himself through, he was still deliriously surprised when in front of him lay a circle of mushrooms, dotted with pale blue and pink flowers. He smiled. It was the door to Aidan's home.

“Ten times,” he said, to fortify himself, and began trekking round the outer perimeter of the circle, in the opposite direction of the sun. 

_…to go widdershins allows the fairies to place the runner under their sway. To circle the ring a tenth time is foolhardy and dangerous._

He was going to have to be foolhardy and dangerous if he ever hoped to be reunited with Aidan.

The seventh trip around found him dizzy. “Aidan,” he whimpered, then made his eighth and ninth go-rounds. “Aidan,” he repeated. It was the only method he had of knocking. He didn't remember his tenth circuit. His belongings fell from his hands and he passed out, falling into the center of the faerie ring.

\- - - - - 

Wind rushed through the elm trees, and the moon above shone bright and lonely in its sickle shape. Aidan had missed this; the breeze that reached beneath his skin and swayed his curls, his bare feet on mossy grass, and the comfortable darkness, illuminated by red wisps. This was where he belonged, and his body welcomed its return with exhilaration.

The rush of home was as wonderful as it was empty.

"How are you?" Richard asked to his right, seated on a tall milky stallion. Richard, whom Aidan deemed not to call by his true name because he had forgotten what it sounded like—despite the meaning of his mortal name being mildly ironic. Richard ruled nothing. He lived to serve, and serve he did the king.

Aidan's grandfather.

"He had no right," he whispered in his unearthly voice, his presence bare and unveiled once again. "Lee had no right to drag me back."

"He did, by royal decree."

"I don't fucking care!"

Richard smiled. "Colorful. I suggest you do not let your father hear about the things you picked up in the realm of men."

"Oh," Aidan groaned. "Why? There is no point. I cannot pretend it has not changed me. Look at me, Richard. I'm nearly seven hundred years old, and I'm grounded. I don't care if Lee promised anyone. Truly, I don't."

A rabbit ran past his bare feet, and he followed it with weary eyes.

"I love him."

Richard sighed.

"You've only known him for weeks. You should have let your heart be taken by one of our own."

"Oh, come off it. Who, then?"

Richard kept silent, for Aidan was right. There was no love like that of men amongst them. They shared laughter and beds as they fancied; there were no declarations of love, because there simply was no romantic love. Not in the passionate, jealous and exclusive ways of mankind.

He still remembered the first time Aidan had returned to their small apartment and gushed about having kissed another. Lee and him had looked at him as if he was mad.

None of their own would willingly offer Aidan his exclusivity. Besides, none of them would have been able to offer him something he had only come to desire from living among men.

"Give it time. It will pass away. Soon, you'll have forgotten him."

"As he has forgotten about me? Lee won't shut up about that, but it's a lie. You know he won't. He _saw_ me."

Richard combed through the mane of his steed. "Aidan, please—"

He was about to ask for Aidan to stop talking about it, because Lee was just as much to blame as Aidan, who had indulged Dean and shown him his true nature, and done all the things that had gotten him on the first flight home, but the sound of hooves pulled him up short.

"Aidan. Richard," the lone bannerman stopped before them, his own steed breathing hard. "Your presence is requested in the keep. We have a guest."


	15. Under the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has successfully made it to Aidan's home under the hill. But what hoops must he jump through next?

\- - - - -

Dean was surely dreaming. He'd fallen to the earth in what he thought might be a Benadryl-induced stupor, and come to his senses inside what appeared to be an entrance hall to a very large and well-appointed castle. "H-hello?" he called out, his voice echoing. "Is anyone there?"

A young girl came darting in, her clothes seemed to be made of thousands of layers of spiderweb woven into a sparkling dewdrop-scattered cloth. "Hello," she laughed in a melodic voice. "You're new. What is your name?"

"I'm Dean," he told her, "W—where am I?"

"Why," she smiled and hopped around him, "you're under the hill, Dean. Would you eat and drink with us?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he answered, for—from what he'd read—consuming anything offered while among the fae could be dangerous to humans. "But, I will go with you, if that's all right. I'm looking for someone actually. His name is Aidan. Do you know him?"

She waved it off. "Nonsense. You will eat with us." Dean didn't know it yet, but he was hers. Off she traipsed, and all he could do was follow her until she led him into a large underground feast hall. Around him, the most delicious banquet was lain out; venison, berries, and wine aplenty.

The smell made Dean's stomach growl. He'd neglected his appetite so much in the past week or so. His mouth was watering. _Don't do it,_ he told himself. _Don't._ But his hand was already reaching towards a particularly succulent-looking strawberry. 

"Where is everyone else?" he asked the girl. "And what is your name?"

She laughed again. "You don't need the others. You're mine. Eat." Her voice became a command harder to deny than six whip lashes.

_It's just one berry,_ he told himself. And it did indeed look delicious. He brought the strawberry to his mouth and took a bite. The taste exploded across his tongue, so much more intense than any strawberry he'd ever eaten. He finished the rest of the berry in one bite. "That—that was incredible," he told her. "Could I maybe have a few more?"

A loud curse in a dead language interrupted his words then. Her eyes grew wide, before she scurried off and the banquet disappeared from his sight.

"Child of men," came a deep voice from within the shadows. A man emerged, tall and older than the centuries. His eyes were condemning. "You came here not to eat from my table. You came to steal from me. Do you deny it?"

"Father, stop it!"

The old man turned, surprised.

As a veil lifted from Dean's eyes, more men and women came into view. One, by another, by yet another, they looked at him curiously. Red wisps clung to the walls and high in the domed roof of the hall, and the floor was riddled with white veins.

Dean found himself in a court of grand design, surrounded by the tall and unearthly nobility of the underground world.

From that singular mass drew forth a solitary figure. Without the glamour, his skin shone and his eyes were as though cut from the glass of the deepest volcano.

"Stop it," this man spoke again.

"I—I'm sorry," Dean apologized. "I hadn't intended to eat. I just felt so...compelled. I'm sorry," he repeated. "I have come to see Aidan," he spoke, trying to calm the tremble in his voice and body at what he was seeing. "He is...my love."

The man laughed, while the figure amidst nobility stared painfully at Dean.

"Yes. I can see you have," the elder spoke. "But you must not be looking well, if you cannot recognize him."

"He's here?" Dean looked about him, seeing nothing but tall, aloofly beautiful creatures. "He looks different to me...up there," he gestured lamely towards the ceiling, the surface, his world. "Which of you is Aidan? Please, don't toy with me. I nearly died of grief when I found him gone."

The man that had stepped out from the crowd looked at him with such hurt before forcing himself around and slipping back into the anonymity of the mass. Behind him, remaining where he was, stood Richard in human guise.

"He stood right in front of you, Dean," he whispered. "You are speaking to his father."

Dean's heart dropped into his shoes and he could barely keep his feet. He placed his hand over his mouth, uttering a hoarse, pained cry. "Aidan! Come back!" he begged. "I—I didn't know you. I didn't see..." He walked towards the spot where Aidan had vanished in the throng.

When the crowd cleared, solemn but curious, he was nowhere to be found. At last Richard placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, sighed, and shook his head. "It is bad custom to ignore a loved one's father, and worse so to ignore a crown prince. Be wise about your priorities."

Dean took a long, steadying breath. Richard could feel his body trembling like a leaf under his head. "Your Highness." He turned to the old man. "What I know of your kind is only a drop in a vast ocean of knowledge. I have so much to learn. I have been blinded by fear, and by love. My actions have been rash. I ask your forgiveness if I have offended you."

The elder fae raised his chin. Praise did him well, though he was wise beyond his years and aged with the knowledge of the world. He knew better than to let a man tamper with his pride. 

"I believe it is my son you have offended. You are not the first suitor he has had, and many of them have been his own kind. Better suited for someone his stature. Rather than arrive a guest, you steal into our realm and expect us to show you hospitality. Who told you of us?"

"I learned of you on my own. Over time, from what I had observed—of what Aidan told me of who he was. I put the pieces together on my own and researched. That research brought me halfway across my world to find Aidan. I did not mean to surprise you or sneak into your world. I knew of no other way," Dean hastily tried to explain without incriminating Richard. "And you are right. I'm sure I am not worthy of Aidan. I have been told as much every day since I met him." He lowered his head in defeat. "I only wish to hear those words from his lips, and I will leave him to find his happiness."

The man looked down in thought. All of the court was silent, their eyes both on Dean and straight through him at the same time. This was not the world of men; he held no power, nor did he belong here. 

The man at last inclined his head. "Retrieve him," he spoke to one of his guards. "Let him speak now, so we may solve this matter."

Richard stepped forward at once. When he spoke, his voice was an undecipherable flow of syllables, though he shook his head and maintained courtesy throughout, offering words of advice. His suggestions never reached the man, for he raised his hand and two guards escorted Aidan back in against his will.

A whisper rang through the court as soon as they caught sight of the shape of him. Aidan's eyes were red from crying, and he looked away from Dean as soon as their eyes met.

It was not done for one of the fair folk to act emotional.

"Aidan," Dean couldn't bear to see him in such a state. "I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you before. I was looking for the Aidan I knew from Wellington. I—I figured it out, with help, what you are. A sensible person would have just accepted that we could never be and let you go." Dean reached out a hand to touch Aidan's cheek. "But I suppose I'm not very sensible."

Aidan flinched away from the hand. "How could you not? If you knew me, Dean, if you knew me at all, you would have known. But you didn't. How can you claim you love me if you can't recognize me?"

Dean pulled his hand back into his own personal space. "I memorized every inch of you, Aidan," he said softly, "in my mind's eye. You didn't look like I was anticipating. I was overwhelmed by this place. I was afraid. I didn't see you. But I see you now."   
A mirthless laugh broke the silence of the hall. "Look at me then. Truly look at me. This is who I am. No more hiding. This is what you'd be getting yourself into. Would you be able to live with that?"

"Aidan, you're beautiful. Blindingly beautiful. Far too beautiful to be seen with someone as plain as me," Dean said sadly. "If anyone would suffer for lack of something lovely to look upon, it would be you."

"I am many times your age," said Aidan. "I am no man from the upper world. My ways are different. It would not be easy to live with me."

"You're right," Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "I will die in what will no doubt be a blink of an eye for you. That alone is reason enough for you to send me away. You deserve something long-lasting and permanent. By my very nature, I cannot offer that."

A long silence fell. Aidan knew, as well as Richard who looked away behind him, that what Dean said was truth. They were as incompatible as a tree with the sun, for they might love for a short while, but decay would always bring things to an end on one side, while the other lived on.

"Son," the elder spoke. He looked at Dean, expecting only one answer to the following question after what he'd just born witness to. "Is he worthy of you?"

Aidan smiled.

"Yes, he quite is."

Dean barely maintained his composure. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, clearing away the tears that had accumulated. New tears immediately sprang up. "I am so in love with you, Aidan," he told him.

Richard coughed with embarrassment behind them. Aidan laughed at it, and shook his head. 

"I love you, Dean. I'm sorry I showed you. I would have still been there if I hadn't told you about me. But since you're here, prepare yourself. We do things a little differently here." 

Aidan anticipated the guards moving back forward to escort him out, and willingly followed this time around.

Before Dean had a chance to protest, Richard was by his side as well.

"Follow me."

Dean, too dazed to do anything else, complied. "W-where are we going, Richard?" he wondered.

"Well," Richard recovered bits of his acquired humanity during ten years of living above ground, as soon as they left the crowd and followed delicately carved tunnels to smaller quarters leading up to a larger chamber, occupied by a bed and a table with fruit. "I'm not sure how much you understand of his position but, you see, Aidan's a prince here. First-born of the crown prince, in fact. And you're human. We're not used to, well, your perspective on exclusivity. That puts us in a bit of a predicament. If you want him, you will have to earn him.

Basically," Richard chuckled—the sound of it deep as the mountains, and never more fitting—"It means you'll have to woo him."

Dean stopped in his tracks. "I rather thought he was already sufficiently wooed. Richard, are you saying that I have to _court_ him?"

Richard only nodded and Dean let this information sink in. Then, he grabbed Richard's arm. "It was you who left that note and map for me, wasn't it? You knew I'd come."

"It was not my intention to separate you. But Lee found out that you knew. I shouldn't have told him about how you came to talk to me. I'm sorry, I truly tried to stop him. I broke my oath for you by giving you that information when he refused to be stopped. Don't tell Lee what I did. He doesn't know."

Ethereal like the hill's other people, Richard looked as much like royalty like any mortal ruler as he kept his chin high and guided Dean to his chambers. "You may eat that fruit," he said when they arrived, "It means you are a guest of the court. You did a terribly reckless thing, giving away your name so easily. Hadn't Milord Abhean claimed you back, you would have been lost to her clutches." He bowed and smiled. "Well, it's good you came."

Offering Dean a seat, he took one as well. Richard focused, and his human guise fell over him. "We might talk more easily this way," he explained. "Now, let's begin. Yes, you'll be courting him. Unfortunately, you picked Aidan, first grandson of the High King and first-born of the king in rule, which means that it won't be easy. And you might really stop checking your phone, because there'll be no reception in here. Any other questions you have, you can ask me."

The fae leaned forward conspiratorially and admitted, "I would really like the chance to return above, if you could make it happen. I liked it there."

Suddenly, Richard found himself with an armful of Dean, who'd leapt at him and embraced him tightly. "Thank you, Richard," he told him, unable to hold back his tears now that they were alone. "Thank you for giving me the clues I needed to find him." The blond was trembling, his mind and body obviously overstimulated from what he'd seen so far this night.

He clung to Richard, taking many long, slow, cleansing breaths before pulling away. With a contrite chuckle, Dean sat his cell phone aside with a trembling hand. "It's a lifeline, I suppose. It's my only possession that came here along with me," he confessed, taking the time to look around the room he'd been brought to.

He turned to Richard, gaze determined. "What do I do first? How do I begin?"

Richard smiled, gently moving himself free again. "Save your battery for when you get up again. Peter probably didn't let you go without a promise or two. If he let you go at all." He looked Dean over. "You didn't sneak out, now did you?" He sat down and reached for a berry from the table. Years among men had eroded the required level of politeness between Dean and him. "Well, you won't be seeing him for some time. And if you do, he'll be accompanied by someone else. Most likely that'll be Lee, so don't get your hopes up much for any time alone with just Aidan. In the mean time, you are meant to prove yourself to his parents and siblings. That means trials of culture, intent, and the strength to protect."

"I told Peter I was coming to try to bring you all back," Dean told the older man. "Of course, I told him I might need two weeks. I'm not sure how forgiving he's going to be."

He looked over at Richard, chewing thoughtfully on a strawberry. "Do you think I can do this, Richard? Do you think I stand a chance—or is this a fool's mission?"

"Two weeks?"

It wasn't in Richard to laugh at the misfortune of others, or he would have done so in discomfort. "No, two weeks will be very hopeful indeed. Not unless we can arrange for you to continue courtship aboveground, but you will need a large amount of luck for that. I would not count on it. It's best you consider what you think is more important, because you might have to choose, and I won't allow you to dally around for two weeks if it means a broken heart."

"I've already chosen what's most important, Richard. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here," Dean sat up, defiantly. "Now, answer me this, Obi Wan...am I really here, in body? Or is my body lying above ground wasting? I've done some reading, you see. Folks enter faerie rings for what they think is only moments, while above ground days, weeks, _years_ have passed. Is my body—you know—up there?" he gestured towards the ceiling. 

Richard inclined his head. "Well, so the legends say, don't they? Check your phone, Dean."

Dean looked up at him, forehead wrinkling in confusion. He turned his phone back on.

"What's the date?" Richard asked.

Terrified at what he might see, Dean looked down. It was only the next morning.

"Richard," Dean breathed in relief. "Y—you scared me," he turned off the phone and pushed it away with a trembling hand. Dean looked exhausted, his emotions clearly close to the surface. "D'you think maybe I could lie down for a bit?" he wondered "I just feel so...drained."

"You may," the other nodded. He smiled. "It's good to have you here. I wondered if you'd be able to find it, but you are fast. Sleep shortly; you are expected for an audience with Aidan's father in the afternoon. Do you want me to deliver Aidan a message?"

"Richard, I'm not that smart. You practically handed it to me on a silver platter," he blushed. "You _wanted_ me to find him, didn't you?"

Dean sat down on the edge of the soft bed in the corner of the room. "Tell him," he thought for a moment, "that I want to draw him now, more than ever. I just don't have the proper tools to capture his beauty anymore. Maybe, down here, you do." Dean lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile. 

"It's been torture not seeing him," Dean yawned, as he lay down. "Torture not to touch him. Tell him that too."

An impish smile quite unlike his nature crossed Richard's lips. "If I tell him about you longing to touch him, I will have Lee to answer to. He wouldn't like that very much." 

He picked one more berry off the elaborate copper tray. "But maybe I did. You've got good intentions, and we've long given up trying to talk him out of mortal love. If he is so determined to find it, I believe you're a good match. He seems to share that sentiment."

As he got up, his true self re-emerged once again. "I'll come for you in a few hours," he said. "Don't worry too much about it. He has a way of seeing someone's nature. Do not however lie to him; not out of politeness, nor to make yourself look more suitable. That is all I can tell you."

With that, Richard took a deep bow and left.

Dean lay back on the satiny bed, head swimming with what-ifs and you're-not-good-enoughs. Yet, here he was. He had Richard's support. Aidan had endorsed him to his father. Now, if only he believed in himself a bit more.

His body was still firing on all cylinders and he held his shaking hands up before his face. They were not shimmery or special. He was not magical. He was just...Dean. And Aidan loved him anyway. 

"He loves me," Dean whispered out loud, curling up on his side. "He loves me." To this mantra, he fell asleep.

\- - - - - 

The pillars of the throne room rose high before they transformed into arcades and domes on different heights, illuminated by a hallow yellowish white. So different they were from the common orange and red that the skin of those in audience lit up like it glowed from within. Upon the dais instead the palette interwove with a mossy green, adding further to the nature of its people.

"Dean of Gorman," spoke the herald, "Bow before your highness, Lord Aebhan, king of the hill and conqueror of his people."

Dean desperately wanted to stare at the beauty around him. It was overwhelming, and no post-production film artists would ever be able to possibly render what he was seeing with his own two eyes right now. He still felt disconnected—like he was dreaming. But Richard had bustled in and awoken him some time ago. 

Richard provided him with some new clothing: a tunic and pants of indigo blue with intricate embroidery work he marveled at. He'd had a chance to soak—albeit briefly—in a luxurious, hot, sweet-smelling bath, made slightly uncomfortable by Richard's presence. He felt cleaner than he'd ever been, and the clothing was so light he barely felt it against his skin. He kept looking down at himself for reassurance that he was not, indeed, naked.

Barefoot, he walked down the wide aisle of the throne room, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Aidan's father, the king. One thing he'd learned from years of acting, thankfully, was how to bow properly. 

"My Lord," he greeted the king. "Thank you for your hospitality. You have a beautiful home."

While the king upon the throne acknowledged his compliment, he did not smile. Younger and smaller people were seated on his left and right; some adorned with garlands, others shorter of stature and nearly naked, leaves and vines sprouting where there would have been hair, and nails soiled with dirt. None of them bore the faery wings told of in stories, but for their frailty and otherworldly appearance, they might just as well have.

"Welcome, child of men," the parchment-dry voice of the King spoke—its echo leaving an unnatural wake throughout the hall—while dozens of sets of eyes were suddenly aimed at Dean, who found no seat to sit down and was forced to stay standing instead.

"State your purpose."

It was already understood, but if anything, Aidan's family was one of ceremonies.

"Your highness," Dean began, eyes acknowledging the rest of those assembled. "As you know, your firstborn son has been living among Men these past ten years. He and I met, quite by fate, some time ago and we have become enamored with one another." He tried valiantly to remove the tremble from his voice. 

"I have come here, to your kingdom, to prove my worth to him—and to you, your family, and your followers. I have come to court him and win his hand."

A mild smile appeared on the elven king's feature. "For a man who walks the earth only shortly, you're not ill with words, I dare admit. So tell me, how are you worthy of him?"

"I admire him. For his talents, his mannerisms, his grace and his unnatural beauty. I respect his desire to follow his dreams and goals to where they will take him," Dean felt himself blushing. "I cherish him, as a friend—and most recently, as a love. I followed him here, at risk of my life—at the risk of never seeing my own family or people again—because of that love. I would follow him wherever he felt we should go, and encourage him to go further."

"I respect that he has been hurt and betrayed. I respect that he has duties to his people and his family, just as I do." Dean spoke as if Aidan were there listening. It was the only way he could say these very private and painful things. "I could never, ever hurt him, and I swear to bring swift justice to those who would dare do so. I will protect him until the very end of my days, with the knowledge that after I am gone, he will never know another devotion as deep as mine."

"Hurt?" the elder wondered, his eyebrows furrowing in near confusion. A whisper went through the crowd, and a gesture beckoned a man forward from the darkness behind him. "What is this hurt he speaks of? Were you not by his side to protect him?"

Lee's eyes bore angrily into Dean's, before he smoothed it over. In his true form, he was his role of Thranduil incarnate, with only slightly less long hair—but not much.

"I'm afraid he speaks the truth, my lord. We lost sight of him a few times when we were yet unacquainted with his skill to disappear when he wanted to. Once, we found him...desecrated." Having no proper other word for it, Lee knew how it would sound to Dean. He chose to ignore it. "We have not veered from his side since. My profound apologies, my king. I dare not assume anything in your stead, but we are both well aware of the effects of coupling with men. Dean here, too, has come close.

"Nevertheless," Lee turned to Dean, "I do believe he speaks truth."  
The old king sat aghast.

"Hurt?" he repeated. "Why was I not informed of this? He should have been back amongst his own immediately."

"We begged him to. He refused, always."

"If you'd not listened, we would have never had one of limited lifespan vie for his hand!"

"Now, listen here!" Dean strode forward. "I am sorry that if fell to me to be the first to tell you of Aidan's previous heartbreak—and his encounters that may have ended less than happily. I won't go as far as to belittle his so-called protectors, however. I did _not_ harm Aidan. Nor have I come close, despite what has been said of me. If you ask Aidan, he will tell you as much. I have done nothing but cherish him." Dean's hands were closed into fists and he locked a steely gaze on Lee. _You bastard,_ he seethed. _I will not let you take this from me. Not with lies._

From the throne, the king now turned with curiosity to Dean. "You and I may have different concepts of hurt, young one. Nonetheless, calm yourself. You have told me truth mine own kin has kept from me, and for that you have my gratitude. Please tell me exactly what you've done with my son, how you've met and how you've wooed him, so I may judge for myself."

"Highness, this subject is something I would much rather speak about with you in a private audience," Dean confessed, flushing. "Among my people, the intricacies of falling in love are...well, they're private matters." He twisted the bottom of his tunic nervously. 

When the king did not relent, Dean went on. "We met when someone on the cast of the film Aidan was working on left. I was brought in to replace him. Aidan was very encouraging of me from the very beginning. I almost feel as if I would not have been asked to stay were it not for his approval. I found him," he chose his word carefully, " _enchanting_ from the very start, and strove to find ways to spend time with him. I was fortunate, in that the roles we played facilitated that."

"I came to learn very quickly that he had two very avid protectors in Lee and Richard. Lee made if very clear to me that I should stay away from Aidan. I did not listen. If anything, I began pursuing him with greater zeal. I-I draw and paint and found myself with Aidan as my muse more often than not. I came to learn he had a love of fresh fruits," he blushed, "so I brought some to him. I endeavored to make him smile, and when he was smiling to keep him that way. I—" and here Dean paused, too ashamed to reveal more of their privacy.

"You are an artist."

The intonation that bordered on appreciative made it very clear that this was a very good trait indeed.

"Do you make music, too? My son does have a special love for music. But oh, I interrupt. Do continue."

"I have tried my hand at singing," Dean told him, wincing, "but the result was less than pleasing. I seem to have a talent for art—and the theater. I also trained in the martial arts at the young age." It seemed like a ridiculous thing to admit, considering any of them could probably kill him with a glance.

"Perhaps an instrument," the king offered, while Lee glared daggers at Dean. "But Aidan. How did you proceed?"

"I proceeded very cautiously, as you can well imagine, having met your son," Dean smiled. "I thought for the longest time that he and Richard might have been romantically involved, due to their unnatural closeness, so I kept my distance and admired him from afar. Once it was disproven that Aidan was romantically involved with Richard, I began by talking with him—about our families, our homes. He, I should tell you, shared nothing about all of you. But that didn't stop me from babbling on and on. I even invited him to come meet my parents, when we caught a break from filming."

Dean looked up cautiously to gauge the king's reaction, but he seemed as serene as before, despite Dean's admission. "He saw my sketches quite by accident one day. Many were of him. I can't say I was unhappy about this. It seemed to be the first thing about me that truly caught his interest. Perhaps then he realized how much time I had spent admiring him, I don't know."

"After that, we sought to spend more time together. It became," he paused, then blushed, "physical."

"As it no doubt would have gotten." Lee's discomfort ignored as a flick of a wrist dismissed his presence, the king allowed more of his court to leave. Only a few remained, of who half seemed disinterested from that moment forth. It was like through unspoken agreement a resolution had been made. But what that agreement encompassed, Dean had no idea.

"The man you call Lee would not have lied to me. I offer you privacy, so you may tell me what you believe he thinks of when he mentions hurt. Now, I doubt it will make me think differently about you; it is concern for the impetuousness of my son that has me asking. Speak freely within these walls."

Dean did not want to talk to the king about what Lee had done to him, but how else was he to explain the compulsion in a fae kiss and how it affected men? How he was unable to resist Lee's kiss and they wound up hurting one another...but Aidan's kiss merely ignited his lust. He never felt an urge to hurt Aidan, even when under the worst of it.

So, he started at the beginning, with that night he'd spoken to Lee about Aidan and Richard. He recounted the feeling of helplessness and lust that had overcome him when Lee kissed him. Then, he was forced to talk of being tased by Aidan, when the brunet was afraid Dean might hurt him. He described how painful it had been for them both. And then, to his shame, he spoke of being bound by Aidan so they could kiss, and the degradation he'd felt.

"I know that Aidan has been raped," he hated to use the word, but there was no other word that fit. "And I could easily understand how that happened, having felt the effects of the kiss of one of your kind—particularly one who had malevolent intentions. I did not rape Aidan. Never in a million years would I do that. His kisses merely intensified my desire for him."

A long silence followed, in which neither moved nor spoke. The painful use of the word ran deep for both parties.

At last, the voice rendered of layers and layers of wisdom sighed wearily. "You have hurt him," he spoke and reset the moment of timeless contemplation. "Yet he's hurt you too. Still you seek him out. I have many questions I would still ask you, but for now it is enough. I would like for you to be our guest in the hunt tonight. After that, you may have time with my son."

\- - - - -

The horse—or mount—that Dean was forced to ride upon was monstrous. Not only were the mounts huge and nightmarish, but Dean had zero desire to kill the quarry they were set to pursue. Nonetheless, Dean stayed close to the king, and did not fire upon the intended quarry. His eye was on the prize of spending time with his beloved. He only hoped he met the monarch's standards.

The hunt was mad and fast-paced. In a pocket of time on its own, the reserved people came alive with laughter and a hunting frenzy, the only exception being the king, who sat high on the noblest of steeds and let his people scatter and play around him. They passed small towns and larger hills in the deep of night—although it never seemed too dark to see the path ahead.

Where their steps touched the earth, mushrooms would sprout up, and where they laughed, forget-me-nots would grow and fan out across the woodland floor. Mice and squirrels curiously came closer to watch, and a wild hart that understood it was not prey ran with them for a moment.

It felt like centuries had passed when they finally finished their hunt, and longer still when they walked home in slow procession, in a straight line that, whenever it ran through houses, always had the front and back doors miraculously already opened. But when they reached the hill of Knockma, dawn was only just peeking over the top.

"Sleep now," bode the king to Dean as they stopped and dismounted. "The one you know as Richard will come for you when you're rested."


	16. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, with Richard's support, begins the courting process. He also makes a painful realization about the implications of Aidan choosing him.

Dean had been promised an opportunity to see Aidan after the hunt was concluded, but he wasn't foolish enough to press this with the king. The hunt had exhausted and frightened him, yet at the same time it left his skin tingling. He had seen things that filled him with wonder. 

When the idea of sleep was mentioned, his bed had beckoned to him like a siren and he was lost to its pull.

Richard arrived by his bed far too soon. Without speaking a word, the shift in the room woke Dean. Richard smiled. He sat down and waited for the other to get out of bed, before he'd offer him the new set of delicate clothes already neatly folded on his lap. 

"I trust you've many more questions now than you already had when you came here," he chuckled. "You'll have the chance to ask all you want in a minute. Take your time. We will have all day, and Aidan is most likely still asleep."

Dean sat up, hair tousled. "Good morning, Richard," he smiled. "I can honestly say that yesterday was the strangest of my life. It still feels like I'm dreaming. Even now."

"I know." Richard offered him his attire; a sky blue robe, brought into shape through leather cuffs and a silver filigree pattern. Instead of his shoes, simple sandals were offered. "That'll take a while. I remember when I first followed Aidan into your world. It was strange for me as well. All I knew, I knew from books; everything turned out to be so different.

"Now, I'm going to warn you. Lee will be with him, as he's officially been appointed his guardian. You haven't exactly gotten on his good side, so I don't think he will go easy on you. If you want, I can come with you. He's not difficult, but you need to know how to handle him."

"Wow," Dean breathed, holding up the robe. "This is...amazing. Thranduil would be jealous," he grinned. Then it dawned on him what Richard had just told him. _Lee._ He groaned.

"Richard, he hates me," Dean lamented. "Even more since yesterday. And I won't lie, I'm a bit afraid of him." He slipped the robe on. Its hem cleared the floor by millimeters.

Richard got up to his feet and stretched his legs. "He doesn't," he said. "You haven't seen him when he hates someone, so I understand it must look like he does, but he actually doesn't hate easily. It's just, you want Aidan; he's vowed to protect him. That makes things complicated to him. He's actually skilled in a great number of things and a nice person to be around."

He leaned closer. "Don't tell Peter this, if we make it back, but I'd say he's been perfectly cast as Thranduil."

"I'd like to clean up a bit, if I'm going to see Aidan and his family again," Dean admitted, raising his eyebrows at Richard’s interesting and rather intimate confessions about Lee. "Do I have time to take a bath?" He suddenly felt very self-conscious standing in front of Richard, despite Richard's attempts to set him at ease.

An amused nod told him there was plenty of time. "Just Aidan and Lee, actually. And me, if you need me. But I don't think anyone would have trouble if you chose to take your bath with him."

"W-what?" Dean seemed terribly surprised. "I could do that? I thought I wasn't allowed to even touch him right now." He seemed very perplexed. "Bathing together seems rather—permissive." He smiled at Richard. "And yes, of course, I want you to come along, Richard. Having you with me makes this situation much less scary for me."

"Bathing is not necessarily touching, now is it?" Richard was far too amused with the responses wrought from Dean at his world to not add a little extra fuel to the fire. "Though the bath in his chambers isn't that large. You probably will."

He did not miss the shiver that passed over Dean at his observation. It was obvious that Dean missed Aidan and his eagerness to see him was palpable. 

"I miss him, Richard," he told his new confidant. "I hope he'll be happy to see me."

That hope was so plainly visible that Richard chose not to stall. He had no idea what it was like to feel like Dean, to be so enamored with someone—at least he was certain that he didn't—but it had to be wonderful. "Come on," he gestured. "Follow me." And he opened the door before Dean. It shut on what seemed like its own accord.

They passed halls and narrow corridors, each one of them dark and lit by the same weatherlights as before. The corridors went on for what had to be half an hour; the way was impossible to remember, for even those who paid close attention would find themselves forgetful after a while.

At last they stopped before tall double doors, decorated with stone vines and the sculpture of two apple trees intertwining.

Richard knocked.

Lee opened.

At Richard's advice, Dean endeavored to give Lee a second chance. "Good morning, Lee," he greeted the much taller creature. Dean was winded from his trek through the seemingly endless hallways.

Visibly perplexed at the decreased hostility, Lee squinted his eyes. "Good day. Why are you trying to get into my good books all of the sudden?"

Richard gave him a decidedly very human shove and muttered, "He's just being nice. It might do you good to get into his good books as well."

As if Dean wasn't there, the blond snorted. "I was in his good books. Then he went after Aidan."

"Which is not going to change," Richard sighed. "Let us through. We have permission by royal decree. And I'd rather not argue with you, if I can stop it."

That seemed to ease Lee up. The tension seeped out of him, and all that was left was an honest apology. Bowing his head, he stepped aside and let them pass. As the doors closed behind them, a more earthen light enveloped them. From a hole in the ceiling shone down a late afternoon glow. In its midst, unceremoniously on the floor, sat Aidan, his fingertips raking gently through the fur of a small rabbit.

"I have never longed for a sketch pad more than I do right now," Dean smiled at the adorable sight. "Will your friend be afraid of me if I sit down with you?" he asked Aidan.

Aidan lit up like a raindrop in sunshine as he caught sight of Dean, looked him over once and grinned, "You haven't taken a bath yet, have you?" Then he looked down at the creature, quietly signaling Dean to sit down, and nudged it. "Why don't you try and find out?" But the rabbit hopped off almost as soon as Dean reached too close.

Aidan's eyes weren't on the rabbit however. They sparkled as they looked over Dean.

"I was going to," Dean told him, "but then Richard informed me that I might be able to bathe with you. That had a lot more appeal," he smiled, sitting down, knees just touching Aidan's. "Hi," he reached for Aidan's hands.

Behind them, Lee scowled until Richard shut him up with a quick gesture.

"Hi," Aidan smiled back, his eyes continuously fleeing elsewhere, as if being in his home made everything that had happened between them not yet so. "I bathed already. But I'm sure I can take another one. Um. How are you? Is Richard treating you all right?" 

"Richard has been nothing short of wonderful," Dean told him honestly. "I went on a hunt last evening. It was ...surreal. I wish you could have been with me. Riding, like Kili and Fili did on set."

"The hunt?" Aidan laughed. The sound of his voice rang clear with merriment, as the rabbit curiously hopped back to his hand and pushed its head against it. "How did you like it?"

"I felt like Alice in Wonderland," Dean told him. "I still do," he confessed, eyeing the rabbit with a lopsided grin. "I spent some time in court yesterday, as well. I had to explain my worth to your father."

"Oh god," Aidan groaned. "You told him about what we did, didn't you? That's a little painful." He looked at Lee and Richard and then at Dean. "Would you like something to eat?"

He sorely wanted to lean in and kiss him, but he still couldn't.

"I was so ashamed I wished the floor would swallow me up," Dean admitted. "Talk about a tough crowd," he smiled. "He made me list all the reasons that I thought I deserved you. Turns out, I have quite a few."

"And you should have," Aidan grinned. Then his eyes turned distant and his voice dimmed. "When they took me home, I was sure I would never see you again. Richard told me what he'd done, so I wouldn't need to go out on a limb and sneak out for you. He said that if you really wanted it, you'd find a way. I didn't believe him at the time, but it was a comforting thought. I held onto it. And here you are."

Aidan's hand grasped Dean's. "How do you truly feel? About the way I look? It's weird even to myself, to look in the mirror and see someone I haven't been for nearly ten years. If we can be together, you need to know I won't be like this. It'll be me. Human me. This is just—" Aidan looked for words, "—the fancy costume I wear for family reunions, I suppose."

"Aidan," Lee warned.

Richard coughed. "Lee. Remember you are here to stop them from only some things, among them not being talking."

"You're beautiful," Dean told him. "So lovely I can hardly bear to look at you without crying," he confessed. "Your eyes," he reached out and cupped Aidan's face with both hands, holding it steady and peering into their kaleidoscopic depths. "I could get lost there.

"Do you think it would be okay if I held you?" he asked him. 

"Depends on how you'd hold me," Aidan tried to lighten the tension with a bad pun, but he chanced one look at Richard and saw a forgiving mood there, so he nodded. "I'd really like that."

Dean got to his knees. "In my arms, of course." He pulled Aidan up to a similar position, then threw his arms around Aidan's waist, laying his head on the brunet's shoulder. Both hands clutched at Aidan's back like a drowning man grasping a life preserver. "Just...can we stay like this awhile?"

Lost in the warmth of his arms as well as the world, Aidan whispered assent and closed his eyes. He'd thought for a few terrifying days that he wouldn't get the chance to hold him again; that Dean would be lost to him forever. It felt so good to have him here, his chest pressed against his own, knowing that whatever happened, they would have been given an extra chance. "I wish they wouldn't be here," he said against Dean's ear, "I could show you my world and my chambers and I would ask for your embrace more than I'd be allowed by either of them. I don't know how long they'll give me today. I'm supposed to just sit here and do nothing. It's not right. We're in this together, Dean. You shouldn't be the one having to earn my father's permission while I would probably only have to show up at your parents' and eat your mother's food and it'd be good."

"Well, I'd still have to explain to my dad why I was bringing home a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend," Dean chuckled. "But I think they'd both warm to you pretty quickly. I fell for you the moment I saw you sitting at the conference table, dressed as Kili," he lifted his hand to caress Aidan's soft hair. "That little impish smile of yours," he caressed Aidan's lips with a feathery touch.

A soft gasp of pleasure told Aidan how badly he wanted to kiss them. "We should stop," Dean pulled away reluctantly. "Before I do something they won't approve of."

"Right," Aidan looked down in disappointment, and pulled away. "Do you think you are able to bathe with me? It's not a very spacious bathtub, but I can do my best to not tempt us both too much."

He wondered if they'd ever get the chance to see Dean's parents together. "You said she was a great cook, didn't you? And we could take the ride there like a mini road trip?"

"Yes," Dean was breathless with excitement that Aidan was interested in the trip. "Auckland's about eight hours from Wellington. There's some gorgeous landscape on the way," he told him. "And the beach isn’t far from my flat in Auckland.   
"I'd love to take a bath with you, Aidan," he admitted, "but do _they_ have to watch? That would make me really uncomfortable."

"Ah," Aidan bit his lips. "Well. See. If we want to take a bath, they would. We're not supposed to be physically acquainting since, according to family tradition, you have to earn that right first. That they let us take one together, granted we don't get physically close, is already really pushing the tradition. I'm fine if you want to go back and have one where Lee is not, but then I won't be there either."

"I want to wait," Dean told him, "until you and I can be alone together. I've had enough indignities the past couple days without having to be naked in front of Lee and Richard too. How about food? Can we eat?" Dean's stomach gave a betraying growl.

Aidan lay down on the ground, looking up at the ceiling and the shaft of light that bore down from it at ease, before he veered back up, sat up on his knees and soon came to a stand. Holding out a hand for Dean to grab, he said, "If you'd like to eat, come with me." He had no plans to sit behind a table when he had the chance to spend it elsewise.

Pulling Dean to his feet as well, he started pulling him away from the light and away from Richard and Lee. No doubt they would follow; he assumed as much. Aidan took Dean through another corridor, down three flights of stairs, until they reached the base of the hill and he nodded in acknowledgement to the two guards that blocked their path. Aidan spoke several words to them, and they stepped aside.

"Just letting them know we won't run," he told Dean as they passed, Lee and Richard in tow. The exit opened into a small apple orchard.

Dean smiled. The apples were redder and more lovely than any he'd seen above ground. "They almost don't look real," he told his companion. "Are you sure I can eat one?" he asked, remembering what he'd read about fae food.

In reply, Aidan reached for an apple and took a bite, before he handed another one over. "You'll not taste better aboveground. They're perfectly safe."

Dean took an inelegant chomp of one of the otherworldly apples and rolled his eyes at the incredible taste and texture. "Now I really need that bath," he smiled, as juice from the fruit was running down both their hands. "Wow, Aidan. I understand now why you found canned fruit cocktail to be substandard."

Aidan leaned closer and pecked Dean on his cheek—at which Lee immediately reared, and Aidan threw him an unchallenged look. "Wait until you try the peaches." He wanted so much more than just a peck, but they had the time nor the allowance for it. "I can show you the other orchards too, if you're still hungry." Though Dean would find that one apple was already satisfactory to an empty stomach. He looped his arm through the other man's and sidled up next to him.

"Show me whatever you like, love," Dean squeezed his arm. "Just stay right here next to me, okay?" He couldn't put into words the comfort Aidan's presence gave him. Even the sticky spot on his cheek where he'd been kissed tingled assuredly. "I want to see everything."

A broad grin was the only warning he got before being pulled along into the orchard. No matter how fast they were, no matter how the world turned to the blur at the hands of Aidan, their silent guards were always close by. Past a gate of oak and moss and a flower garden of blue and yellow, Aidan didn't stop until they reached a smaller orchard and, laughing of the exertion, they nearly bumped into each other.

With the grace of a jungle cat, he climbed the tree and returned with four ripe peaches. He offered two of them to Richard and Lee, along with a grateful curve of his lips, and then one to Dean. "We probably don't have a lot of time anymore, so I have to ask you now. Will you draw something for me for when we next see each other?"

"Yes," Dean agreed without hesitation, wiping peach juice from his chin with the back of his hand. "I'd love to. I'd need some materials though."

"I'll send one of my sisters," Aidan nodded, not stopping to think that maybe, to Dean, this different family structure than his 'mortal parents' could be confusing. "Do you want something of me in return?"

_I want your trust,_ was the first thing that came to Dean's mind. But, of course, he didn't dare give voice to that thought. Not now. 

"A promise that I'll see you again, soon," he said instead. "What is it that you wanted me to draw?"

Aidan looked at Richard. "That's not up to me," he shook his head, much as he hated to admit it. "Is there something else you really want?" Though Aidan soon blinked and, before Dean could respond, said, "I think I know something I want to give you. Can you draw me you? It doesn't have to be a portrait, but I'd—" a flush of embarrassment crossed Aidan's eyes, "—I'd like something to remember you by when you're not around."

Dean too found himself blushing. "You want a picture of me? This world of yours is filled with such beauty and _that's_ what you want?"

"If it makes you uncomfortable..." Aidan took another bite of his peach, though rather insecurely so. "But yes?"

"No, I'd be happy to, especially since you want it so much," he smiled. "Yes." He leaned in to kiss a dribble of peach juice from the corner of Aidan's mouth. "You have no idea how desperate I am to kiss you, Aidan."

The gesture flustered Aidan, and he had to be pulled away by Lee before he made good on Dean's words. Even so, his eyes were large and his pupils dilated.

"Aidan," Lee warned.

"I know, I know. You can let me go now."

"Can you control yourself?"

Aidan groaned. "Whatever, Lee." He pulled himself loose and smiled at Dean. "I think I should go now. I'll be looking forward to the next time we can see each other. Please do your best, so it'll be soon."

"I'm sorry I did that," he looked to Aidan, then to Lee. "It's just that last time I kissed you, you were taken half a world away—and then some. I wanted to make sure I got to do it one more time, just in case."

He backed a few steps away from Aidan, towards Richard. "Why _must_ you be so irresistible?" he smiled fondly.

"Do it many more times, please." 

Aidan threw the last half of his peach over to Dean. By the time the fruit touched his hand, he had disappeared, and Richard waited behind him to take him back.

They walked in silence, until the taller between the two eventually broke it.

"I know you and I are different, but I keep being reminded of it. How strange it must feel, to love someone that strongly. For us, love and sexuality are very different things. They never connect. And it should be the same for Aidan, but I don't think it is."

"You have never been in love, Richard?" Dean asked, imagining Richard to be many times his own age. "That must be awful. It's such a wonderful feeling—especially when it's reciprocated." Dean smiled fondly, thinking of Aidan. "You seem so curious about it, though. I must ask, is there a certain someone you are more than a little fond of?" he nudged the normally taciturn fae with his upper arm.

Richard immediately and strongly denied it. "Just curiosity, that is all. Besides, I wouldn't know what to miss. I'm fond of many of us, and in ways that you will never be. Describe it for me. How does it feel?"

"Well," Dean found himself blushing, "I guess it depends on the object of your affection." He walked along a bit more, then said. "With Aidan, when I first met him, I found him terribly intriguing—and weird. And I liked that. After I left Wellington, I couldn't get him out of my mind...but I wasn't sure why. It wasn't sexual. Not initially. I guess that's where love and lust differ. With lust, you generally feel it the second you lay eyes on the person. But with love, it's a slow burn."

He pondered a bit more. "I wasn't even sure I _liked_ him at first, but his behavior was very interesting to me. As we began to work together, and I studied his face, his body and his voice, I started to feel attracted to him physically. But, even then, I still thought he was very strange. Probably too strange for a relationship with me. Then, it just...changed. The switch flipped and I realized that I was in love with him. That, when I got up in the morning, the first person I wanted to see was him. " 

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, that's pretty much it. Love is a tug in your heart towards someone. I can't explain it any better than that, Richard." 

When Richard looked over, he saw that Dean had tears in his eyes, which he wiped away guiltily. "It would, of course, make my life much simpler if I'd never met him at all, wouldn't it?" 

Richard could only breathe out and nod. "Much simpler for you. For Aidan, I don't think it would have made a difference. Since he decided he wanted to live among men, and he discovered how men and women love, he has wanted the same for himself. We're not generally built for that kind of love, and he's been hurt as often as he looked for it. I can't say I know what goes on in his head, but he never gave up.

"If you hadn't shown up, he wouldn't have stopped. He would have been hurt many times over. It's something he believes in. And, if I may speak my opinion with you, I think he may have found something good in you. He's quieter, these days. He thinks more, but he also smiles in a private way that neither of us—Lee and I—can explain. He's changing. I fear it's for the worse on our side, but for the better on your side." He bowed his head. "I believe his father knows that too. One day we'll lose him. You see, he generally lets Aidan do as he pleases. You having to court him...it's because you're human. Because one day, he expects Aidan to walk out of this hill with you and he knows he will never see him again."

Dean paused in his tracks. "You think Aidan would walk away from this? From his life? From who he is...for me?"

Richard smiled sadly. "He's changing, Dean. I do mean that quite literally. Before long, he will have changed so much that although he will always be welcome, his place is no longer among us. So you see, it's a big thing, you coming here and persuading him further." 

He said it not as if it was a bad thing for Aidan. Richard wanted Aidan to be happy, in any way that Aidan wanted for himself. "He is free to choose his own path. He's lived long enough to be able to make the right choice. A time ago, I would have called him foolish or wanting so, but now that I see what he's found with you, I might envy him a little for it."

"Am I understanding you correctly...he would no longer be fae? No longer be nearly immortal?" Dean seemed surprised and frightened by this revelation.

"If he continues changing," Richard nodded, "Then I'm afraid so. Though it's only happened only a few times before, so I can't say for sure."

"No," Dean shook his head. "Richard, no! Aidan can't _do_ that. Can't give up his immortality...not for me. You have to take me back topside immediately!" he told his guardian, fear and concern in his eyes.

Richard stared at him, and all sympathy that he had for Dean left him at once.

"It's you he wants. You mean to leave him?"

"Rich," Dean looked terrified, nauseous, "I cannot be the reason for him giving all that—all _this_ —up! I am...I'm nothing. I'm a blip on the radar...a drop in the ocean. I couldn't live with myself if he gave all that up for me." He let the implications sink it. "It's as if I'd be killing him. If loving me is a death sentence for him, I cannot allow him to do that."

"Death holds no meaning to us," Richard spoke bitterly. "For we have lived centuries."

"It would, if you knew you had only forty years of life left," Dean told him. "I'm 35 years old, Richard. The average man lives to be 70, 80. You do the math. When the years you have are finite, death comes to mean something. Who am I to give that burden—that death sentence—to someone I love?"

"Then you would run away and leave him to fade?"

"I would leave him to _live,_ not be responsible for his impending death!" Dean cried.

"Well, it'll happen with or without you!" Richard was well fed up now, upset with Dean for crawling back. He was surprised by the viciousness of his words no less than Dean. "He's a creature of magic, but only because he's born to a realm of magic. There's no magic in your world. If he goes back and continues to live there, searching for someone who will have his heart and all it entails, he will eventually become part of that world. Maybe it will take him fifty years, maybe only two. The result in the end is the same. If you want him to live as he was born, then he must stay. The only way he will, is if you stay with him until the end of your days. Which, here, will be many, many years from now."

"I want his happiness," Dean told Richard. "I want him to make the choice that brings him the most happiness." They finally arrived at a door Dean recognized—his own. "Could I be alone for awhile, Richard? Please don't talk to Aidan about what we've just discussed. I want to do the right thing by him, that's all."

Still stiff from the blow of Dean having second thoughts, and fairly disillusioned at what he had thought to be romantic, Richard nodded and opened the door to see him in. Then he turned around, locked the door and left without another word.

Dean felt the tumbler of the lock clicking shut deep in his core. He was disgusted with himself—at his selfishness. He had to have known Aidan's decision to love him would come at a price, but he hadn’t quite understood what the price was until just now. He could tell Richard was just barely controlling his anger. But how could he expect Dean to live with himself, knowing that entering into a relationship with Aidan would literally kill him? 

_Loving me will be the death of him. Choosing me means that he will die._

Now he understood why Richard and Lee had been so protective, and so quick to bring Aidan back to his family and his world. He stripped off his clothing and climbed into the hot bath that was waiting for him, hoping the cleansing water would help assuage his guilt. It didn't.

When he climbed out and put the silky robe back on, he found a sketch pad and charcoal kit much like his own waiting for him on the table in his bedchamber.

Dean remembered his promise to Aidan and sat down to draw.


	17. Aiobhe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a heart-to-heart with Aidan's mother... and with Aidan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aidan and Aiobhe written by BlueMonkey
> 
> Dean written by ThornyHedge
> 
> \- - - - - 

Every once in a while, Dean had visitors; children over a hundred years old, who continued to hop into his room when they thought he wasn't watching; for, although the room was shut and there was no way out for him, the entrance seemed to hold no meaning for them. They climbed down the vines of the courtyard or popped up out of the shadows. One even seemed to arise out of nothingness from a small stream of water.

The day—or night; he had no idea—passed fast and without hunger. Richard did not return, displeased immensely with Dean's sudden doubts, but later that day, another fae made her presence known with a seemingly unconventional knock.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked, as she bowed and smiled at him. She was beautiful, the way the timeless trickling of water down the stalactite pillars of a cave could be.

"No, no, of course not," Dean looked up from his work. He'd been sitting and drawing for so long he welcomed the break. He was surprised to find he'd made fifteen sketches in his drawing fugue. "My name's Dean, but I suppose you already know that."

A younger girl walked in beside her as the lady sat down next to Dean. She took a peek at the drawings out of curiosity, and then waited patiently for the girl to formally announce her. As the scribe spoke first in their own language and then in an accented English before prompty leaving, the lady smiled.

"Aiobhe, in short. I meant to see you earlier, but I'm afraid I was held up. It's not often our son brings home a friend. Have you been treated well?"

"Aiobhe, hello," Dean greeted her. "I have been treated very well, thank you. You're Aidan's mother?" he gulped. "Do I call you 'Highness' as well?"

"Oh deary, no," she laughed. The sound of her voice was like the ringing of chimes in a light summer breeze. "I'm his mother, but I'm no queen. Though I did raise a few princes of my own. Or I suppose you could consider me a queen, if you wanted to compare. Well. It's different from your kind." With a joyous look, she examined Dean. "You've not been eating nearly enough. Can I offer you something?"

"To be honest, Aiobhe," he stuck with the title she'd provided, "I haven't been very hungry." He shifted nervously and a loose page fluttered to the floor. Blushing, he picked it up, but not before his guest could see it. It was a sketch of an elderly man in a wheelchair, sitting and facing Knockmaa. Hastily, he tried to tuck it away. 

Aiobhe could see the resemblances between the man in the drawing and Dean. "It's you," she said sadly.

"Well, it's me...someday," he told her. "If I'm lucky enough to live that long. Aidan asked me to draw some pictures of myself. So I have. I—I drew myself as a child, and at some other ages, too."

"Do you want him to think of you like that?" she asked. "As mortal?" Aiobhe reached for a branch that entered the room despite its stone walls. "If you would never see him again, would that be how you want him to remember you?"

"But I _am_ mortal," Dean said. "What other way would he have to think of me?"

She looked at him with pity. "I came here to talk to you. About your life, your dreams; that which makes you _you_. I wanted to know you. Not if you're suitable, or able to protect him, or all those things his father undoubtedly told you. Not even who you are, compared to him. Tell me this. I've been told you only found out about his nature a few days ago. What would you have drawn for him before?"

"Before I knew?" Dean gave it a moment's thought. "I suppose I would have drawn myself as I am now. With a look on my face as if I were thinking of him fondly." Dean stood up and walked around in agitation. "But your question is moot. He needs to see what he's in for if he chooses to love me. I am going to get old and die. And from what I have learned, he might too. I can't condemn him to that, Aiobhe. And I can't go on pretending that I'm blissfully ignorant about it. I love him too much."

"You make that assumption without asking Aidan what he wants. I've just been with him. My son looks happy. He has lived among your kind for a long time, always knowing that being away would have an effect. I expected you to be happy too, though you're not. Do you still intend to proceed with him?"

"Please don't misunderstand me. I would do anything for Aidan. _Anything,_ " Dean stressed. "And I am very, very happy, he loves me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me. I want that as well, and _yes,_ I plan to proceed," he insisted. "It's terribly hard to believe that he'd be willing to give up all of this—and his mortality—for me." 

Some of her worry left her there, and she eased back. "Good." She wouldn't have allowed her son to get hurt by a man who knew not what he wanted. "He's long made up his mind. We've all tried swaying him, but he was adamant; so headstrong in what he wanted to do and where he wanted to be. If it's a whim, it is one that has us all fooled. You must understand, you're not changing something. You may quicken it, because his emotions have gotten visibly stronger since you entered the hill, but you're not the cause. Now, I came here not to talk about my son, because I'm sure many people already want to talk to you about him. Tell me about you. About your parents. Your jobs. Your dreams for the future."

Dean's relief must have been palpable.

"I’m from New Zealand—Auckland, New Zealand," he told her. "My parents are Vicky and Lance. Dad was a painter. I guess that’s where I got my enjoyment of it. I paint as well, although it’s not my strongest talent. I also enjoy photography. But as far as a career goes, my passion is acting. I’ve been onstage on one capacity or another since I was fourteen years old." He absently ran a finger along the gilded edge of the table. "My career goal was always to be a part of a film that would be a classic—something memorable. I believe that now, I have finally achieved that goal. I have a feeling the film I was working on with Aidan when we left New Zealand is destined to be something great. I was hoping to persuade Aidan, Richard and Lee of the same so they’d return with me to finish what we started."

The lady traced a finger over Dean's drawing; the charcoal smudged under her finger. Long she wondered, and then with an exclamation she looked up. Within a second, a young fae stood next to her, to whom she spoke something, and off the small messenger went once again. As they waited for her return, Aiobhe handed the page back. 

"Until he's promised to you, that might be difficult, dear. Though, as I'm sure you have found by now, you shouldn't worry about that not happening. Aidan's made up his mind a long time ago. I'm sure that if his father didn't approve, Aidan would just do so anyway. He's never been one for doing things the conventional way."

As the fae returned and handed her several tools, Aiobhe turned to Dean. "There's something barbaric about creating art from dead, burnt wood, don't you think? Try this for your next drawing." In the delicate set were a quill from the finest quality, set with copper, and two bottles; one of golden ink, and the other darker than ebony black.

"A gift, from me to you. I would have asked for silver if you were from among us," she entrusted Dean. "But gold fits you better, don't you think?"

Dean's eyes were wide with astonishment. "These are amazing, Aiobhe," his voice was barely more than a whisper. "With tools like this I feel I might be able to come close to recreating the beauty of your world under the hill." His fingers were itching to try them out. "I'd love to get started right away!"

She laughed merrily. "By all means, do so! If you complete one you like, I will take it to my son at your request."

Patiently waiting, she didn't speak again until much later. They sat in comfortable silence, the distant sound of birds singing all that broke the quiet between them.

"What do you think to be the biggest difference between here and your home?," she finally asked. "If you'd take away living underground and our differing lifespans, are there things you find unpleasant? You have my permission to speak freely, Dean. I'd like to know more about you, and I've found that one can often learn much from that which someone is not, or that which he has no liking for."

"There are a shocking amount of things about my world that I hate," Dean told her as he worked. "War and killing, failure to help those suffering from poverty and hunger, diseases that remain uncured and unchecked, prejudice, natural disasters," he smiled ruefully. "Going on like this, it's hard to imagine why anyone would want to live up there, isn't it?" he chuckled.

"However, some of the things that might be considered 'bad' are what makes it interesting as well. So many different races and types of people—all shapes and sizes, colors and creeds. A variety of music and artistic expression. The weather, the beach, thunderstorms..." he seemed very passionate when he spoke of art and the beach. "The fact that I am able to make a living as an actor. Doing exactly what it is that I love. And that I met the one that I love doing it. How wonderful is that, Aiobhe?"

"It is." She reached for the pitcher of water—that looked like the most priceless accessory to a king's palace—and poured herself some water, holding it up in silent offering if Dean wanted a glass as well. "I think I might add one in Aidan's stead. Emotion. That first night when he saw a play and didn't know what it was...How moved had he been. He's always loved the small things, but he couldn't stop thinking about how wonderful and how sad he had felt for people who pretended. We don't do plays, though we would be marvellous at it. Not a mortal soul would resist our ability to spin an illusion. But his look, then. He never mentioned the pain that rests in your world, even though he's well aware of it. I visited the first play he was in. He could never fool me, but I saw the love that he held for the game. For a mother, that is enough. 

"We lived in that world once," she spoke wistfully. "As real as the trees and the sun. Now, we're the stuff of legends."

Dean nodded solemnly, accepting the glass from her and taking a sip. He was not surprised to find it to be the most delicious and thirst-quenching water he'd ever tasted. It made him feel stronger and more alive just to have taken one small draught.

"Emotion," Dean added. "Yes. I supposed it hadn't occurred to me. I believe sometimes I am far too emotional. Especially since I met your son. He brings that out in me. And the passion, of course," he blushed. "That can be downright terrifying."

"Ah," Aiobhe laughed. "You have joined, then. He struggled with that part, but I'm glad you seem to have overcome it." It looked like she burned to tell more about the subject—as if she was brimming with it, rather—but eventually she only said, "Well, that's best kept between you two. Certainly you should not be discussing that with the mother of your partner," and left the subject at that.

"Oh, you do know how to keep a lady waiting. Here I am, hoping to watch you draw, and you leave me waiting."

Dean blushed even more furiously and handed over the drawing he'd been working on, to hide how flustered he was by the subject matter.

He'd drawn himself submerged to the chest in the bath tub in his room under the sidhe. In the picture, he lay back, arms resting along the edges of the tub, head laid back and eyes closed. Flowers floated on the surface of the water. 

"Do you think this will be more to Aidan's liking?" he asked Aiobhe.

"Most definitely." Aiobhe was pleased. "What does the symbolism mean? The flowers and sleeping in water. Or is it private?"

"I'm not sure symbolism was involved," Dean smiled. "I just find your baths very comfortable. Although I will admit to having had dreams where I am wearing flowers in my hair."

"Do you want to, next time you meet him?"

"Do I want to...what?" Dean asked her. "Bathe with him?" again he found himself blushing and was glad for the dimmer lighting.

"Wear flowers in your hair." Her grin was sly.

Dean nodded, not thinking it was possible to be any more flustered. "Yes," he admitted. "I think I would like that very much."

"Do you know when you'll see him again? If you want, we can prepare you the way we would suitors. It happens too few times among us... It'd be wonderful to get the chance again."

"I-I'm not sure," Dean confessed. "Richard was angry with me when he left earlier. Heaven knows what he might have told Lee—or Aidan. I wasn't in a good frame of mind earlier. I said some things I didn't mean. Anything you could to help me get into Aidan's good graces would be most appreciated, Aiobhe. He means the world to me. I want him to understand that."

She contemplated that for a moment. Then she called into thin air and another one of her court appeared. Not answering the undoubtedly arisen question where they found entrance into the chambers, for they did not come in through the door, she sent the youngling off with another assignment.

"Let us first check if your worry is necessary, why don't we?"

Dean found he liked Aiobhe very much. He'd never pondered what it might be like to be married in his life, but he imagined that Aiobhe would make an amazing mother-in-law.

As he watched her rush about, he found himself drawing her.

It didn't take long before the courtesan returned, and as soon as she did, the reason for her expeditious return was obvious.

The message was relayed in English immediately this time. "Your son is distressed, milady. Very distressed. He wants to see our guest, but they—" she looked at Dean, "—Lee and Richard do not permit him to go. They also seem to have discord between themselves."

"Oh _no,_ " Dean stood up from the table. "I knew it. I knew Richard would misinterpret my concerns."

He turned to Aiobhe. "What should I do?"

She got up immediately. "You will do nothing. The first time you see him again will be with a smile on his face and flowers in your hair. Let me handle my son for you." To herself, she muttered, "And give his guards a good reprimand. What are they thinking?"

"I'm sure they have his best interest at heart," Dean said, downtrodden. "I mean, could we be any more ill-fated?" He sat down and took a deep breath, then another. "Please let me know what you find out, Aiobhe. Whatever it is, I'm sure I can explain it to Aidan."

She stepped closer and kissed his forehead.

"Stay here," Aiobhe bode him. "I will be back with news, though I know not how long it will be."

Then, she left, leaving him alone in the room.

The spot where she had kissed him tingled and Dean felt oddly reassured by it. Having Aiobhe in his corner lifted his spirits. He sat down at the table again, admiring the drawing implements she'd brought him. He'd never seen their equal. He traced his finger over the delicate quill.

_Please let them find me worthy. Don't lose faith in me, Aidan,_ he begged silently.

"And don't lose faith in yourself, Dean," he scolded.

It took a long while, before the next messenger revealed himself. On behalf of Aidan's mother, he took a deep bow as seemed the courteous custom towards guests, before he started in his own tongue—before prompty switching back to a poor English at Dean's lack of understanding.

She was on her way now. She couldn't stop Aidan from looking Dean up himself, which was why she'd brought him into a sleep. It was as awful to the sidhe as it would have been among men, from what Dean gathered, and letting him sleep only bought them a short amount of time. But it would buy them enough time for Aidan to calm down, and for Dean to prepare himself.

The messenger had barely spoken before Aiobhe burst into the room and nodded.

"Right," she proclaimed. "You will sleep now. If you don't, you will be too weary to deal with him when he comes. I'll prepare you a sleeping draught if you've trouble finding sleep. When you wake, I'll be here to make sure you're presentable to him. Then, you're going to have to talk. I explained him a lot but, knowing him, he will need you to say it."

"Aiobhe," he stood and hugged her. "Thank you for intervening on my behalf. It is above and beyond the call of any expectations I had of you. And you're right," he pulled away. "It'll be impossible for me to sleep knowing he's upset. But I don't think my taking anything is a good idea. I need my head to be clear."

He took a few steps backwards and sat on the bed. "I'll try to sleep, I promise," he assured her, looking terribly worried.

With a knowing look, she placed a vial next to his bed regardless. "Only for when you can't find it, then. I will be back in the evening. He will wake around that time, if he hasn't changed his sleeping patterns in the last years." The lady tidied a part of Dean's hair just above his ear that frankly didn't need fixing, before she took a step back and turned her back.

The gesture made Dean miss his mother terribly and he almost started to cry then and there. 

"Thank you," he said, voice tight with emotion, before she left him. He lay down flat on his back. As he expected, his head was swimming with unpleasant, worrisome thoughts that kept popping to the surface like Cheerios in milk.

Finally, he reached over and took one sip of the liquid Aiobhe had left for him. He lay back again, thinking of how to best explain his fears to Aidan. While he was formulating a plan, he fell asleep.

Well before he was really awakening, a host of court ladies fluttered about Dean and started, with the silence that only those who barely touched the floor could manage, to fuss around him. They made sure he had a nice attire ready on the seat next to his bed, then prepared a scalding bath that would be comfortable by the time he woke up, and lined an array of natural scents that would add notes that he would never pick up on himself, but Aidan would.

By the time Dean's eyes opened, they were all gone, and only Aiobhe sat waiting in the guest hall just outside his sleeping quarters.

When he finally woke up, he felt very rested. He could smell that a bath had been prepared. He couldn't imagine ever taking a shower again, now that he'd realized what a sensual pleasure a nice hot bath could be. He got into the tub and allowed the warmth to soothe his aches and worries away. 

He dried himself and found the featherlight clothing that had been left for him. "Is anyone here?" he called out into the empty room and beyond, once he was fully clothed.

"Come have something to eat," a voice called out. There was fruit, and water, and bread so light of structure that it could hardly be filling, though it was.

Dean ate but a few bites. Already anxiety was unfurling in his stomach. 

"Is he ready for me, Aiobhe?" he wondered. 

"We'll see," she said. "I will leave you here. He shouldn't be long; he's probably burning to get here. Promise me you won't run off with him, Dean, or let him drag you up. Only Richard will be present to oversee it. Lee will not be there."

A timid knock interrupted her there, and she smiled. "That's my sign to leave. Be kind to him. And open up." Dean blinked, and she was gone.

He immediately rushed to the door and opened it. "Please, come in," he held the door open for his visitors.

Aidan stood there awkwardly. Behind him was Richard, but so obviously trying not to be a bother that he was hardly noticeably.

"Thanks," the younger mumbled, looked not into Dean's eyes, and moved for a seat in the guest room. Richard fanned to the corner of the room, where he blended in. But Aidan couldn't keep still for long.

"Do you want to leave me?" he burst out. And then, "You look really good."

Dean knelt in front of the chair Aidan was seated in. "No, love, I don't want to leave you. I would love you until the end of time," he put a hand on each of Aidan's knees.

He looked up with a grin. "You mother picked out my clothing," he confessed.

"Ah, right." Aidan chewed on his lip. "Lee told me you thought about leaving yesterday, about stopping things. And Richard kept apologising. They wouldn't let me see you. I don't want you to leave me."

"Lee isn't completely wrong," Dean told him. "I realized yesterday that being with me—or any human—would cause you to lose your immortality. I didn't want to bear that burden, Aidan. To say it's a monumental sacrifice would be downplaying it. Are you sure, one hundred percent sure, that you understand the gravity of your choice?" He caressed Aidan's cheek. "I don't want to enter into this with you only to have you resent me after the full implication of your choice falls down on your head. I couldn't bear to see you in pain."

Aidan leaned into his hand with ease and equal parts need for comfort. "Becoming mortal is something that's always been connected with me living in your world. I have no regrets, Dean. You're the best thing that happened to me. You found out and you're still with me." Between the smile, his eyes grew glassy.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again."

Taking the comfort that Dean offered, Aidan tugged him close and pulled him against himself, strong hands holding him there. He buried his face into his shoulder, so that Dean wouldn't have to witness his fears laid bare in his eyes.

"I love you so much, Aid," Dean stroked his hair, his back, holding on as tightly as he could.

"And I you." Aidan gripped him closer. "You can't say stuff like that. Especially not to Richard. Lee bent him like a leaf, before he started putting thoughts into my head that should never have been there. I don't care what Dad says. We're leaving. Soon. And I'd rather leave Lee behind."

"I don't think this is a decision that should be made in haste, Aidan," Dean cupped his beloved's face in both hands. "Your family..."

"It's not made in haste. I will talk to Mum and discuss it with Dad. But this—" he gestured at the room, implying all of his realm, "—it's not good for you. And if it's not good for you, then it's not good for me. Look at what it's making you think. There should be no doubt about it. I want you, and if you want me, that's all there is to it."

"It's not your world, your _home_ , making me think these thoughts, Aidan," Dean assured him. "It's the idea of you giving this up—embracing being mortal—that scares me. Maybe, just maybe, I don't want to—" but he paused, and held onto Aidan tighter

Aidan looked at him. "You don't want to, what? You were never troubled about me living a normal lifespan before."

"That was before I knew you had the capacity to be so much more," Dean said sadly. "You have this amazing, incredible gift—and you would give it up just to be with _me_. And I am honored. I am so, so very honored. I just think of all the things I would want to try to accomplish if I could live forever—and it seems impossible to not want to."

Aidan laughed warmly. "Dean, we're not an ambitious people. You say that now, because you've never known the chance to live for centuries. We spend our time eating and making music. We like to watch the seasons change. But we are hardly able to enjoy a moment. There's always the bigger picture to think of. We never do anything reckless. I have lived nigh on seven hundred years. I _want_ to do something reckless. I _want_ to grow old."

"You say that like it's just one more adventure," Dean blinked, and a tear ran down each cheek.

"I say it because it's what I want. I've lived among you for ten years. I've lived stronger than I have in all my years before. It's not an adventure. It's where I feel I belong—where I want to belong. And I want to spend it with you, but you're not the reason for me giving this up."

"Are you unhappy here, Aidan?" Dean asked him. 

Aidan shook his head. "I would never be unhappy here," he said, and linked their hands together. "I'm safe here. It's home. But I would be unhappy if you denied me because of it."

"I will not deny you, Aidan. I couldn't deny you anything," he assured him. "I will take care of you—or at the very least, endeavor to," he lay a soft kiss to Aidan's cheek. "How are we to overcome this kissing dilemma?"

Aidan grinned broadly at that. "I don't know. I'm sure we'll come up with something. So we're good? Because if we are, I'm going to have a talk with my old man."

"You’re pretty brazen, calling the King by that name," Dean smiled. "Yes, of course we’re good," Dean assured him. "Good as can be," he twirled a strand of Aidan’s hair around one finger.

"Right. Well. He _is_ my dad. Though," Aidan winced, "best not tell him I called him 'old man.' Even if it's technically true." He leaned in to press a kiss against Dean's cheek and veered back in good spirits. "Hang on for me, this might take a while. When I'm done, we're going to have the proper 'second time we meet', so don't go anywhere." To the corner of the room he called, "Rich, come on!"

"Good luck," Dean whispered to the empty room after they’d departed.


	18. Seed of the Yew Berry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miracles _can_ happen.

It took a long while before Aidan returned from the king. So long, in fact, that two days passed. To Aidan, such a period of time was nothing. To Dean however, it seemed endless. Aidan's mother came by once or twice, but she never had any news to share, except that her son and his father were still in discussion.

By the end of the second day, she dropped by to inform him that 'it' had been settled, though she refused to tell him what the outcome was, and that Aidan was tired and needed sleep.

Dean sketched a lot and took far too many of those long, soothing baths. His skin was softer than it had ever been. He paced like a caged animal as the door to his room remained ever locked. Although he was dying for a cheeseburger, the fruit and bread that came to him with regularity were sustaining him just fine. 

He was painfully eager to see Aidan. What could be taking so long? Was his father trying to talk him out of it as well? 

Dean found himself taking long deep breaths as he tried to imagine their conversation. He tried to console himself that he would, indeed, be all right if Aidan was forced to stay. In his heart of hearts, he hoped for a better outcome.

When the door finally opened again, Aidan came in alone. He hadn't yet bathed, and he looked dreadfully weary. That didn't stop him from sitting down and pulling Dean onto the seat in front of him, and drawing forth the glamour that made him Aidan Turner—a poor and duller version of his radiant self, but with infinitely more reason to be joyous.

"Now, mum insisted on Lee for reasons I don't know. She's very displeased with him. She said it was because of something you said. So we'll be stuck with him. Richard will come with us as well. I've promised that, starting today, I will return here at least twice a year. You're free to come along if you want to."

Dean's eyes lit up. "You can come back to the set?" He threw his arms around the brunet. "You must be so happy, Aidan." 

Yet, when he truly looked into Aidan's eyes, his own joy was not reflected. "What is it, love?" he asked. "You look...troubled.”

"Just very, very tired," Aidan smiled sleepily. "I should get some more sleep. We've bargained for two days, and it's not been easy. Also, we will have to leave tonight. Knowing my mother, she'll want to honor us with a feast before then. I've already said no, in case she offers. After that, this will be how you see me every day."

"Sleep here, then, with me?" Dean offered immediately.

"Lead me to it," Aidan nodded.

Surprised that Aidan had come alone, and more surprised that he could, indeed, lie with him, Dean led his love to the bed he'd been given. Amped up on the entire situation, Dean was not tired, but he eased Aidan down onto his side and pulled the covers up over him, laying a soft kiss to his forehead. "I love you," he whispered, "and we're going to be happy." But Aidan was already asleep. "We're going to make this work."

The night came fast. It felt like only minutes before a knock roused them from their sleep. Richard stood waiting, dressed again like a man instead of the fae he was, and Lee waited next to him—far more disgruntled.

"We'd better get going," Richard said to a sleepy Dean—Aidan only just opening his eyes—"or we'll miss our door. The gates are only open during set times. I've been up and arranged a place to stay until we're able to board a plane. I assume you'll want to return to New Zealand."

"I do, yes. Don't you two? Peter would be broken-hearted if he had to replace you," Dean ventured. "I take it we should change clothing?"

"His mother put clothes out for you." 

As Richard stepped aside, Dean could instead see two outfits ready for him on a chair near the bed.

Aidan fell back in bed with a groan. He certainly wasn't going to miss his mother barging into his sleeping quarters while he was asleep. "Give me five more minutes," he pleaded.

"Sorry, love," Dean leaned down and kissed him behind his left ear, then snuffed a bit. "When Richard says 'jump', I'm scared not to." He smiled up at the older man. "Lee," he said to the other. "I'm glad you're coming."

Lee snorted. "I'd like to hear you say that in a few weeks. Aidan, get up. There'll be plenty of time to sleep when you're among men again. Your father's waiting to see you off."

"My father...?" Aidan blinked. "I thought he was angry."

"He is," Richard supplied. "But you're his first son. Lee's right, you'd better not let him down by showing up late."

"Right." Aidan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Pass me my pants," he nudged Dean.

Dean did, and although he was not thrilled with the notion, he changed his clothing in front of Lee and Richard's watchful eyes. He was overjoyed to be going home, but didn't want to make it too obvious. It was obviously a painful subject for Aidan's family. While he felt he had a friend in Aiobhe, he wasn't so sure about what the king thought of him.

"Do you think I could bring these back with me?" Dean asked, indicated the art supplies Aiobhe had given him.

Richard inclined his head. "They're gifts. Although you might have to come up with a story where you got them, in case anyone asks." He waited patiently while Aidan and Dean got dressed, before walking to the door and holding it open. They were still in the process of waking up as he guided them past tunnels and tall pillared corridors, until they stopped at the first flight of steps.

"There's seven hundred steps on this one," Aidan cringed. "Just so you know."

"Forgive me for asking a very stupid question," Dean did, indeed, feel very stupid, "but don't you guys have magic...or—or wings or something? Can't you just teleport or fly up these stairs?"

"I can carry you," Aidan—who had no trouble with seven hundred steps, but thought it was a bit cruel from his father, because there were flights of stairs with less steps that would lead them to the same location—shrugged.

"No, you _cannot_ carry me," Dean blushed furiously. "But you didn't answer my question. Can you fly? Can you teleport?"

"Nope," Aidan grinned, while Lee supplied, "We have stamina."

"And you're implying that I don't?" Dean started climbing. It didn't take long, however, for him to feel the effects. While filming had been physically demanding, he'd sat around doing nothing for days. "That's only 200?" he paused for a moment, breathing heavily. "Wow, okay. Give me a minute."

Aidan frowned at Lee then and sighed. "Step aside." He sat down in front of Dean and nodded. "You're not going to like this, but at least it works." Then, unceremoniously, he picked Dean up and threw him over his shoulder.

"No," Dean insisted, flustered. "Aidan, _no_ ," he was mortified. "Put me down. I can do this!" he said, rather unconvincingly. "Oh god, this is humiliating."

"Pay me back in kind later," Aidan only grinned, and ignored the pointed looks that Richard was giving him. "I'll let you walk the last hundred. And," he said to Richard and Lee, "not a word to my dad." That being made clear, he started walking again.

Dean wanted nothing more than to sink slowly into the floor, never to be seen again. While he might have enjoyed this bit of manhandling, having it happen in front of his biggest detractor and his on-screen uncle was simply dreadful. But he had to admit, he liked the feel of Aidan's arm securing him and the weightlessness that accompanied it.

"Is it possible to die of embarrassment?" he wondered to no one in particular.

"Not at all." Aidan's voice was too upbeat for him not to be enjoying this. A little. Maybe a lot. He continued up the steps with optimism. If he was tired, he didn't let anyone know. It took a while, but eventually Richard stopped in front of them.

"Last hundred steps," he said.

Aidan pulled him a face. "You could have kept quiet and let me walk another fifty of them. I like carrying him around."

"I don't want to take any chances on your father seeing me like this," Dean told Aidan, straightening his clothing. "It hardly makes me seem worthy of you being thrown over your shoulder like a sack of laundry," he leaned forward and kissed the corner of Aidan's mouth. "Mmmh," he smiled. "You are much stronger than you look."

Aidan put his finger against Dean's lips and shook his head. "Later," he spoke with a mischievous smile that spoke of far more than Dean knew about. "I'm aching to get you back in your world again." Quietly, he added, "At least nobody gets to disturb us there."

If Richard heard, he let nothing be known about it.

As they trod up the last steps, Aidan's father and mother stood waiting. Surrounded by their court, all eyes were on Aidan and Dean as they entered the hall. It wasn't supposed to be a ceremony, except it had every aspect of being one.

"Walk up to him and bow before him," Aidan whispered in his ear. Oh, how he hated these displays.

Dean did. "Lord Aebhan, Lady Aiobhe," he greeted them. "Thank you for honoring me with a second audience.”

Aidan's mother smiled with a wholeness of heart, but next to her, Aidan's father's jaw tensed. He nodded. It took no wise man to see he had trouble letting his son go. "Rise, son of men. You leave us now, taking one of our finest jewels from us with you. Promise you'll take good care of him. Promise you will be honest with him always, for if ever you do wrong him..."

"Dad," Aidan groaned. "He will." He stepped up on the dais and pressed his forehead against his father's. "I will see you soon."

"Aidan," Dean said softly, "you should let your father finish his warnings to me. It's clear he hates to see you go. Your highness, I will not leave him wanting for love. I will protect him and cherish him."

The king grunted. He didn't want to let him go, though Aidan's mother laid her hand on his and it cooled him down a little. Leaning down, he placed a kiss against Aidan's forehead, and then one against Dean's.

"Go with our blessing," he said. "Go now."

And just like that, they were gone.

Aidan pulled Dean back by his side. "They hate farewells. They're not used to it, is why." Nonetheless, his eyes were wet. "The gate's unsealed for us now. We should go."

Dean reached up and cupped Aidan's face with one hand, wiping away the tear with his thumb. "Where do we go?" he wondered, looking around.

A hand was placed over Dean's, and Aidan moved it away from his face, squeezing it firmly. "This might be trippy," he said in his own quirky human way, and started pulling Dean towards the door. "It's an illusion, see. You'll have to walk straight through it. Don't worry, you can breathe. But it might be a little weird."

Dean merely smiled. "The past two months have been weird," he admitted. "I—you want me to go first?"

Aidan nodded. "If you freak out, I can give you the push," he grinned, though he was nervous too.

"No, no, not freaking out," Dean turned to him. "Just promise you'll follow me." He smiled a half smile, then turned and stepped through the door.

The experience was breathy. Through dark, grainy soil that could be felt on the skin but left no stains, through the moist of the forest ground where there should be no oxygen, everything was as it should not be. Ten feet was all Dean had to walk, but they were difficult. With the lights out, there was no way of telling in which direction he should go.

In the dark, Aidan reached for his hand and pulled him by his side. It sounded like he said, "We'll do this together," though no words were actually heard.

When they finally got out, it was night. Aidan took in a deep breath. Then he let himself fall back onto the grassy hill and looked like a child in wonder.

"Back."

For a few blind seconds, Dean had panicked, wondering if what he was feeling was akin to being buried alive. He grasped Aidan's hand like a lifeline and was ever so glad when the fresh breeze hit his face.

"I wasn't awake when I went in," Dean said softly. "I think I preferred that method better.”

Aidan pulled him on top of him. "We're back," he said with a voice full of disbelief. "I never thought this...I never expected...Oh, I want to kiss you so badly right now."

Behind them, Lee cleared his throat. "Yes. Well, some other time. We should find our lodgings first."

"My rental car's still sitting there," Dean pointed across the way. "But I lost my keys when I came to your world. They were in my bag.”

Lee was already walking down the hill. "Sounds good to me. Then we'll just walk. Lead the way." He ignored Richard protesting that, unaware of Dean's arrangements, he had arranged for other lodgings already, and they were expecting them.

"Wait a moment," Dean was looking down the hill towards the entrance to the tourist attraction. He saw a small lean-to and started towards it. "Maybe they have a lost and found," he shrugged. He found a plastic container sitting on the ground and shuffled through it to find his satchel. "Yahtzee!" he smiled, reaching inside and pulling out the keys to his car and his hotel room. "I would have hated to explain losing the keys to the rental people and that nice lady at the B&B. C'mon." He jerked his head in the direction of his sedan. "No more walking for me. Not today," he grinned.

"Yahtzee?" Aidan laughed quizzically. "What's that?" He was also the first to call shotgun, and the first out cold in his seat when the car started driving.

"Such a kid," Lee mused with affection.

Dean reversed the GPS to lead him back to Castlehacket and the B&B, which seemed to be just as under-inhabited as it was when he'd left...how many days ago?

He hoped it wasn't too late to check back in.

The clock just struck twelve when they reached the cottage. Dreary weather had tormented the area all week; puddles of rain made the ground surrounding the house muddy. Careful only to walk on the small path, Aidan curiously walked up to the house. He turned around when he saw the door, and then pushed it open. It had been left ajar for the night.

"I think we'd better wake her up," he admitted to Dean. "It'll be awkward if we go into your room and she has other guests."

Richard walked past him and up to the counter. "Let's just check the registry," he whispered, so as not to wake anyone. "We'll work out the details and any money issues in the morning. You're nearly falling over, and it'd be nice to have some peace to get reacquainted with this world in silence." He cast Lee one look, before leaning over the counter and looking for a guest book.

Dean, meanwhile was writing a note for the proprietor, explaining that he was back and with friends. Two of them would be staying in rooms three and four for the evening. He handed Lee the keys. "This should do," he told Richard. "The owner's a nice lady," he explained, sliding forty pounds from his wallet and slipping it into the note as a deposit of sorts. "I'll get this one to bed," he smiled, wrapping his arm around Aidan's waist.

The softness of the bed felt coarse now, compared to their previous lodgings. It still felt like heaven to Aidan, who was halfway through undressing himself as he stumbled into the bed and busied himself sleepily with the legs of his jeans. "Help me out here."

"Aw, darlin'," Dean knelt before him, the large muscles in his thighs protesting the workout he'd gotten that day. "Hold still," he scolded half-heartedly, sliding the clothing off Aidan's legs. "There you go," he smiled, lifting Aidan's ankle to kiss it softly. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep tonight?"

Aidan's cheeks flushed with color. Sleep-drowsy and assaulted with memories, the sound that came out was a mixture of many things jumbled into one. "If you'd let me," he said. He knew as well as Dean that the next days would be filled with plane trips, having to explain their sudden absence to Peter, and lots of unwanted attention aimed their way. As such, as Aidan wrapped the sheets around him but not over him, he wondered when they'd again get the chance to be alone and anonymous like they were now.

"I will let you, lover," Dean smoothed down his curly hair and planted a kiss there. "May your dreams be as sweet as you are," he said softly. He slotted himself tight against Aidan, spooning him from behind.

"Mh." Aidan moved himself into the embrace and closed his eyes. "I love you," he whispered, nudged his bare ankle back between Dean's, and breathed out. In the distance sounded the toll of a bell striking fifteen past midnight, and the rustling of the wind whipped around the house. There was the faint sound of something else, too, but Aidan thought nothing of it.

"Did you draw something for me?" he asked into the quiet of the room.

"I drew a great many things for you," Dean kissed his shoulder. "Would you like to see my favorite?"

Aidan nodded his head, curls brushing Dean's nose.

"I got something for you too, but I can't give it to you now. I need to be more awake."

"All right," Dean climbed out of bed and over to his satchel, which now held supplies from both worlds. He pulled out a piece of fine paper Aiobhe had given him and brought it to the bed. In the dim light, Aidan could see a drawing of Dean, laying on his back in the grass. His upper body was in the mushroom circle that marked the entrance to Knockmaa. He had his arms laced behind his head and a dreamy look in his eyes. A wreath of flowers adorned his hair.

"That's me, waiting for you. I would have waited forever, you know," he told Aidan, voice barely a whisper.

Aidan traced the paper. "I still can't believe you did all that for me." The drawing was stunning, but it was that which it implied that made it special. "You figured it out, and you came. Not many people would have done the same. Imagine what would have happened if you'd have picked the wrong hill."

He turned over in Dean's arms to look at him. He was still sleepy, but less so. "I want this one. No copy. Is that okay?"

"It's _yours,_ of course," Dean kissed him on the nose. "And, to be fair, Richard drew me a map. I truly believe he wanted us to end up together. Love, what would have happened if I had picked the wrong hill?" he wondered, laying his forehead against Aidan's.

Aidan kissed his nose. He nudged him to roll further until Dean lay flat on the bed, and crept on top of him. Starting to draw figures across his skin with his fingers, he whispered, "You would have been captured by someone else. If I would not be lucky, I would never have seen you again, nor anyone else. Richard's a good man. If you would have figured out what I was without his directions to lead you to the right place, I fear that it wouldn't have been a strange outcome."

"No one else could possibly capture my heart," Dean told him solemnly. "I would have clawed my way back to you.”

In the calm silence that followed, came the distinct sound of distant rhythmic banging.

"D'you suppose...?" Dean locked eyes with Aidan. "Is that a _bed hitting a wall?_ "

Blinking in confusion, Aidan looked up at the wall behind the headboard. That was definitely a bed hitting the wall. When he realized what it was, he buried his head against Dean's chest in shame. "Oh god. This is what it must be like when you find your parents going at it."

"Surely it can't be...Lee and Richard?" Dean chuckled. "Honestly! This might just scar me for life."

"It's their room," Aidan said in pain, "And it wouldn't be unheard of. But I really, really don't want to think of it."

Unfortunately for him, the sound of the bed against the wall started being paired with the sound of panting, clearly Lee's, before Richard said something. The banging stopped and the sound of a bed being pulled away from the wall could be heard, before the springs creaked from what could only be Richard climbing back on the bed.

Dean snickered. "That poor bed," he entwined one hand in Aidan's curls and, before the brunet could stop him, he pulled him down for a long, wet kiss.

Aidan pulled away instantly, and scrambled back.

"Aidan," Dean said sadly. "Are we still at this impasse?”

With his heart hammering, Aidan's wide eyes bored into Dean's. "That depends on how you respond." Last two times, Dean had forced Aidan down.

"I'm just going to wait here," Dean told him, laying his head down on a pillow and trying to act as if his heart wasn't breaking, "until you decide what you want. I know what I want. I want _you._ "

Aidan got up from the bed. "I'm—" he pointed to the bathroom—"I'm going to be in there. Talk to me when the effect wears off. I'll come out when it does."

"Aidan, wait!" Dean called after him. "Don't do this. You can't keep running from me!" He laid his head against the closed bathroom door. "Don't you think I was scared when I came chasing after you into the sidhe? When I had to stand in front of your father and explain why I thought I was worthy of you? I know you're scared, but we can work through this. We _have_ to," he whispered, laying his open palm against the wood.

When silence greeted him, he signed sadly. He lay back on the bed. The sounds of Richard and Lee's vigorous lovemaking mocked him. Dean sat up and pulled on his jeans, flannel shirt and sneakers, and left the room, going outside onto the cottage's porch.

When the silence in the room took too long for Aidan, and he wondered Dean might have fallen asleep on him, the door of the bathroom peeked open for him to look through. The bed was empty. Confused, he walked into the room and looked around. "Dean?" he asked. "Are you there?"

There came no answer.

Confused and frightened all at once that Dean had left him there, outside his home and all alone, Aidan's first thoughts were to pull apart Richard and Lee and help him look. His world felt like it was shrinking in on him. He ran out of the room and looked around for any traces. There were none.

Suddenly afraid that he'd lost him, Aidan ran for the door to check if the car was still there. He hadn't heard an engine, but Lee and Richard hadn't exactly been quiet and he could have—

Dean was there, sitting on a rocking chair on the wooden porch. Aidan laughed, elated.

"You're still here."

Dean nodded. "Yes." He didn't say anything else, just looked away over the moonlit hills so Aidan couldn't see the tears in his eyes.

Aidan walked up to him until he was close enough to loop his arms around him.

"I love you," he whispered.

"It'll be morning soon," Dean told him. "We should sleep," he reciprocated Aidan's embrace for a moment longer, then pulled away and went inside.

Aidan felt rejection gnawing itself back into his system. They'd only been in Dean's world again for an hour, or not even that, and he was hurting again. He couldn't— _wouldn't_. Running after Dean, Aidan reached for his hand.

Dean's hand was cold, but he squeezed Aidan's, pausing in his tracks. "Are you ever going to trust me, Aidan? I risked my life coming to your world to find you. I don't know what else to do to prove myself to you.”

"I trust _you_ ," Aidan shook his head. "I don't trust what I do to you. And you— you—oh, Dean, I told you I would get you my present when I was more awake, but I can't just ignore this. Kiss me. Kiss me honestly."

"No, Aidan," Dean said sadly. "I can't stand to see that look of fear in your eyes. You have no idea how much that hurts me. It hurts me so much to think I'm causing it. It makes me feel like a monster."

"Kiss me, Dean." Aidan meant it.

Dean took a long, deep, calming breath. He thought about the last few days—the uncertainty and the emotion and his reasons for chasing Aidan halfway across the globe and into another world entirely. He had truly hoped something magical might happen when they arrived back here, together—a miracle that would allow them to display their affection and respond to it normally. He had nothing but love for Aidan. He had no thoughts of harming him or doing anything against his will. All he wanted was for Aidan's to look at him with perfect trust, perfect love and no fear.

With that in mind, he cupped Aidan's face with one hand. "I do love you, Aid," he said simply. "I love you so much it hurts. If this kiss leads to something unwanted, I want you to punch me, knock me out, drug me...whatever you have to do to keep me from hurting you. I don't want to be like all those others who have disappointed you."

And then he kissed Aidan, as he'd always wanted to, in the open air, under the moon, one hand slipping up the back of Aidan's t-shirt and the other entwined in his hair.

The urge never came, this time around. Aidan draped his arms across Dean's shoulders and pulled him closer. When their lips touched, there was nothing to fear. He did so anyway, because it had been ingrained from so many years; the relief when that fear was unnecessary made Aidan feel warm.

It was like he was kissing someone for the first time. He ran out of breath, nipped at Dean's lip, and flicked out his tongue tentatively.

When the addiction still did not kick in, Aidan pulled away and laughed into the embrace.

"Seed of the yew berry."

It worked.

"Kiss me again," Aidan insisted.

"My eyes," Dean asked him. "You always look at them after we kiss to make sure you like what you see in them. "What do you see now?"

"Not blown. Well, a little." Aidan knew that had nothing to do with the supernatural effects of his kiss. "But in a good way." His smile tugged the corners of his mouth up high, before he smacked Dean lightly. "It was supposed to my present to you. Don't eat them yourself, they're deadly poisonous to men. To my kind, well...they're said to temporarily diminish our strength in uh, certain ways."

A cheeky smile reappeared on his face. "Are we good again? Because if we are, I'm going to go up to our room and expect you to follow me and kiss me more."

Dean wrapped his arms around Aidan's waist. "How long will the berry last?" he wondered, raising one eyebrow. "Long enough to annoy Richard and Lee a bit?”

"I've got a bit of a stash," Aidan admitted. "So if it wears off, just feed me another and I'll be good. But I don't, well, we kind of snuck into someone's house. I don't want to wake her and have to answer to all sorts of questions as to why four men, three of whom she's never seen before, have stolen into her house are being very noisy under her roof. Can we be quiet tonight?"

"We can be as quiet as church mice," Dean assured him, pulling him inside the bed and breakfast. "I'll save the stuff that will really make you scream until we get back to Wellington."

"You do know how to woo a man," Aidan said breathlessly, because already he couldn't wait. They tumbled up the steps and weren't quiet at all, though they did make an effort not to make much sound. As soon as the door of the bedroom closed, Aidan pulled him close against him and kissed him hard.

Aidan could literally feel the tension melting from Dean's muscles as the kiss deepened, as if his arms hooked around Aidan's neck were the only thing holding him upright. "Mmm, love...bed," he murmured, backing the brunet towards the bed and pulling him down on top of him.

As soon as Aidan's knees hit the mattress, he was on top of him. It felt exhilarating, to finally be able to do this, and he planned to extort it for what it was worth. Lips were everywhere; from Dean's neck to his mouth, to his navel above bunched up fabric. Aidan had wanted this for so long.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked breathlessly.


	19. Ceann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deserves a happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear friends,
> 
> Thank you so much for coming along on our little Fae adventure. Big thanks to Ceema for the prompt that inspired us to write so much. And thanks the Hobbit fandom, eternally supportive of everything we turn out. We always welcome your prompts and feedback.
> 
> Our next story will begin posting in two days. :)
> 
> Thorny and Blue

In the other room, the creaking of springs stopped, and Aidan found his voice to suddenly be too loud for the silence around them. He had no interest in feeling self-conscious and sat up to pull off his shirt.

"Just so you know," he told Dean, "Yes. This is the first time I'm able to do this. I mean to make it last. So don't you dare go easy on me."

Dean licked his lips at the sight of Aidan's stomach and raised his hand to caress its planes. "How would you feel," Dean asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious himelf, "about being inside me? It might, you know, make you feel as if you have more control over the proceedings. Make you worry less," he suggested. "I like it both ways, Aidan, so you don't have to worry about hurting me," he told him, moving his hands to Aidan's hips. "I consent," he smiled.

"I have no worries," Aidan said huskily. "They're still working, the berries. I can feel it. As long as they are, I want you to not hold back." He quite shamelessly unbuttoned his own jeans, before leaning down for a deep kiss, guiding Dean's hand to its intended target. "This is amazing. Kissing you without you losing control. Maybe soon we can try how it goes without berries."

Dean didn't quite know how to proceed. Aidan's verbal reminder made him painfully aware that, even now, Aidan was still thinking about being hurt. And who could blame him? Dean could honestly say that he hadn't felt out of control with Aidan. But maybe he just didn't remember. Regardless, he wasn't going to step out of bounds. Not now. Aidan had placed his hand deep down the front vee of his jeans, and Dean grasped the hot column of flesh he found there, caressing it tenderly as he licked up Aidan's neck.  


Tiny sounds spilled from Aidan's lips as he rolled his hips slowly against the invading hand. "If I make too much sound, mute me," his breath grazed Dean's skin. Contrary to Dean being intoxicated, the number of possibilities suddenly open to them was doing things to Aidan. "I don't know how I would be able to keep still if you keep doing that to me. I'll have you, Dean. But I want you to bring me there first."

Dean closed his teeth gently but firmly on the flesh just below Aidan's left ear and chuckled. "Mute you? I believe I left my Aidan remote control at home." He deftly rolled him over onto his back and continued kissing and licking his way down along his chest, hot tongue laving everything in its path until he reached Aidan's cock. His hand could not possibly suffice, when he wanted to taste him so badly. And so, he did, slipping Aidan's jeans down over his hips as he worked his shaft into his mouth.

The legs of the jeans were terribly constricting as they remained there, just above Aidan's knees, and made it hard for Aidan to find purchase on the bed with his feet in order to push up. He wasn't vexed. So, he thought instead, with the kissing issue out of the way, this was what it was like to make love to a man.

Almost equally frustrating, but intensely more gratifying.

"Do you know," Aidan panted, "how shameful it is for my people to use your mouth like that?"

Dean pulled off with a wet plop. "Their loss," he smiled, nuzzling Aidan's treasure trail a bit before saying, "You wouldn't believe the places this mouth wants to go." He laid his chin on Aidan's hip and looked up at him. "Why is it shameful?" he wondered. 

"Don't know," Aidan shrugged, his hand tangling in Dean's hair. "Something about the mouth not being intended for such purposes. I don't know. I don't really think I care, either. Though I will care about it if you stop it there."

"Not stopping," Dean assured him, then closed his mouth over the tip of Aidan's cock again, circling it with his tongue and delving into the slit. He continued to slide Aidan's jeans down, inch by inch, until he was able to gain access to his balls, which he promptly took in hand.

Aidan bucked up and bit the inside of his hand, lest he wake at least the neighboring room—provided that Richard and Lee had gone to sleep, but oh, who cared about them? "A little further," he encouraged.

Dean slowly worked his way down Aidan's cock until he'd taken the entire thing into his mouth and throat. Then, he swallowed, letting Aidan feel the muscles tightening and rippling. "Mm," he hummed, pulling back a bit, enjoying the taste of Aidan exploding on his tongue.

Hands quickly latched him into place. "Again," Aidan urged him on. "What—what was that? What did you do?"

"I swallowed around you," Dean told him. "I can't do it too much. I haven't done a lot of work on my gag reflex," he confessed. "But...once more," he grinned and sank back down, repeating the process, working Aidan with his hand when he needed to pull back and breathe.

It was blissful, sinfully blissful, and Aidan showed his appreciation abundantly. The hollow of his back pushed off the bed as he groaned. With eyes screwed shut, he limply started clawing at Dean's shirt, though he didn't want him off his cock for one second. As the rhythm increased and then decreased, he let out a low whine. No wonder his people considered it bad practice. It was enough to drive a man insane.

"For fuck's sake," he hissed in the end. "Get out of your clothes all right?"

Dean smiled. "So he likes kissing...and oral sex. Noted," he unbuttoned his flannel shirt slowly, giving Aidan a wee show as his toned abs were revealed. "What else does he like?" he tossed the garment across the room.

Aidan laughed in lust-hazed amusement. "Oh, I'm warning you, Dean. Seven hundred years of experience. Don't go there, not tonight." The kissing as well as the oral sex were actually the few things that had always been fogged over by the effect that kissing Aidan had on men, and it was what he needed right now. "Pants too."

"If you want _those_ gone," Dean lay back coyly on his elbow, "you'll have to do it yourself."

He was pushed down onto the bed and divested of them immediately. Naked, Aidan straddled a finally equally naked Dean, warm skin touching warm skin, and rolled his hips back. He teasingly pressed his back against Dean's arousal. "I don't think I'm very tired anymore," he said. "Now, what am I going to do about you?"

Dean hissed at the contact."How about something that would make Aiobhe blush?" he tweaked Aidan's nipples. 

Aidan raised his eyebrow. "You want to bring up my mother when I'm thinking of how to have you?" Not really his cup of tea, but then, Aidan's impish smile said enough. "Let's just start slow." A kiss claimed Dean's lips and distracted him from where Aidan's hands were going. They made themselves known as one reached behind him and gripped Dean's cock, while the other reached to his front and started working himself. He was only able to main the angle if he either sat up and bent back or leaned forward against Dean, which was what Aidan did. "Give me something to work with," he breathed in his lover's ear.

Dean gasped at the delicious friction of Aidan's hand. "W-wait," he blindly reached over towards the chair next to the bed. "My bag...in there..." he hooked a finger in the strap and pulled it towards the bed. He dug through it for a moment and produced a small plastic bottle of baby oil. "Try this," he suggested, handing it to Aidan and humping up into his hand.

"You wanted to bring a bottle of baby oil into my father's kingdom?" Aidan snickered. "You're adorable." But, _fair enough_. When he sat up to drip some on both his hands—and put too much on one, fat drops falling onto the mattress without anyone to give a damn—and spread his coated fingers around both his own cock and the base of Dean's, it felt marvelous.

"Okay, I get why."

Aidan leaned back. His hips rocked back against Dean's arousal while his hands worked on both himself and on Dean—until that hand pulled back and he touched only himself. The angle didn't allow Dean to see what was going on. The way Aidan thrashed left nothing to his imagination.

"To be fair," Dean gasped, "until now, I had only used it on... myself," he keened. "But you have incredible hands, Aidan. Such long, artistic fingers," he arched his back. "So hot watching you do this."

Yeah?" Aidan panted. "It feels fucking amazing, Dean. Feel it."

"I do, darlin', I do," he smiled at Aidan's wonder in the act, then pulled him down for another kiss. "Nothing tops this," he told him, when he pulled away, breathless.

"Oh yes." Aidan grinned. "It does." Dean could feel him slacken above him, as if he willed himself prepared—and that was it. That really _was_ it; Aidan took Dean in with care and not a wince, although his breath certainly picked up. "Seven hundred years," he said again as Dean was fully seated within him. "It still requires focus, but think about that."

He squeezed tight around Dean and gasped.

Dean closed his eyes against the rising pressure in his groin, gently guiding Aidan's hips. Seven hundred years seemed impossible to fathom, yes, and again that feeling of his own insignificance floated to the forefront of Dean's thoughts. But he pushed it away in lieu of carnal pleasures.

Aidan was tight around him and he could tell the moment the brunet angled his thrusts and discovered his prostate. Dean chuckled. 

Silence was lost on them then. Though they did nothing to wake the owner of the house, they could be sure they woke the neighbors as they set their pace. Aidan was in charge most of the time. He loved to take Dean in deep before going only very shallowly the next time, until he went fast and quickly started losing his self control.

When he was not in charge, it was because Dean had angled himself just so again. Aidan did whatever he could to have it happen more, though he was powerless. His head fell back, and a deep moan tore from him as he brought Dean in deeper.

Dean would be left wondering later what happened then, for the next moment, Aidan had rolled them round and wrapped his legs over Dean's shoulders. "As deep as you can," he encouraged hoarsely. "I want you."

"Acrobatic fucker," Dean said affectionately. He anchored Aidan with one hand on his hip and the other grasping one of Aidan's calves as he slowed his pace, able to plow deeper at this angle and graze his pleasure center on nearly every pass. He watched as Aidan came undone beneath him, hardly believing that he was responsible for the look of bliss on Aidan’s face and the tautness of his body.

The bed was starting to creak dangerously. Aidan held on to the bars of the headboard as he became the willing subject of Dean's passion. "Gods, yes," he breathed. "Right there." Although control was hard to find, he did his best to clench hard around Dean's cock and further his experience, but Aidan's muscles stopped listening to him. They clenched, relaxed, and shook, poorly out of control—until it became all-consuming when a sensation of completion invaded Aidan. His pores breathed, his hair seemed like it was flowing like water and his eyes doubled in corona.

As his spent cock pressed lifelessly between their abdomens, Aidan's glamour slipped off, and he kissed Dean until nothing else mattered.

"I love you," became a mantra from his lips.

Breathing heavily from his own climax, Dean ran his hands over the shimmering angles of Aidan's shoulders, flanks and hips and studied his ever-changing eyes up close. "So beautiful," he told Aidan sleepily. His hands seemed to sink into the aura around Aidan and take on part of the glow. "Love you too. So much." He laid his head on Aidan's shoulder. 

"You're lucky I was sleepy before," Aidan chuckled, tired. He liked Dean not pulling out immediately. "Prepare yourself; I would have gone another round if I could. That was...indescribable."

He had no regrets. As his glamour slowly restored itself—he didn't feel like it was a glamour, anyway; it was how he saw himself—other more human traits started pulling to the foreground too.

"Do you think you can patch me up with a smoke?"

"Absolutely not," Dean admonished. "If you plan on being mortal, you need to learn that smoking can kill you. I think some healthier habits are in order—for both of us," he told Aidan, laying a soft kiss on his cheek. He pulled slowly out of his lover and shuffled to the bathroom, returning with a warm wet washcloth and towel. Methodically and lovingly, he cleaned Aidan up. "You smell like a baby," he told him, caressing his hair.

The only thing Aidan gave him was a look of _seriously?_. He allowed Dean to clean him up and couldn't help but smile at the sweet gesture. He truly got lucky. Out of all the people he'd allowed into his life, which had been increasingly less and less, he couldn't have ended up with a better man.

"Lie with me," Aidan asked. He kissed Dean sweetly as soon as he came within reach. He'd never been able to do that either; kiss someone without it ending up in sex. It was...refreshing. 

"So," Dean put his arm around Aidan's waist and his head on his shoulder, slotting his body closely to Aidan's, "what do you plan to tell our cast mates about your unscheduled absence?"

Aidan thought about that. Admittedly, he would have liked to think about that while smoking one. "Urgent family business?" he opted. "I think Lee should come up with something, anyway. It's not been my idea to go back home, and I didn't really have a say in the matter." 

"You're right about that." Dean yawned. "Although I think that after last night Lee might be a bit less...repressed, don't you?"

"I don't see any reason for him to continue it." Simply because he could, Aidan pulled Dean in for another kiss, and grinned with victory when it still didn't get the dreaded results. "Besides, if he will, we'll just have to ignore him. He'll probably just be like 'if you hurt him...'"

"I'm still trying to mentally picture Richard and Lee having sex," Dean smiled. "Even with the audio, it's really hard to wrap my head around it from a Richard standpoint..."

Aidan shrugged. "Why? He's not ugly. They've known each other for a long time." 

"Oh goodness, no," Dean corrected himself. "Richard's extremely handsome. No question about that. It's just hard for me to picture him... being amorous," he felt himself blush. 

Aidan laughed and watched his reaction. "It has nothing to do with being amorous, you know," he said. "Unless that's a euphemism."

"I just meant, because he's so serious most of the time," Dean clarified. "I mean, imagine Thorin and Thranduil getting on." He blushed even deeper. "Oh gosh, no. Don't imagine that. That actually sounds kinda hot."

A loud laugh shattered the moderate silence. "Well, there you go!" Aidan clutched his stomach. "You've seen Lee's true form, so you're halfway there. And Richard's not a bad guy. It's not a far stretch to assume they're, well, killing time together." Quieter, he added, "It's impossible to compare them to us though."

"Heh, no," Dean grew serious. "They are far less star-crossed than we are." He splayed an open hand on Aidan's stomach

"That, and they don't know how you love. I'm a fast learner for our kind—" Aidan pulled Dean closer and tugged the blankets over them, "—soon to be your kind."

Dean embraced him so tightly he felt he might cut off Aidan's breath, that same feeling of loss he'd felt in the sidhe blossoming in his chest. He didn't speak of it, of course. He felt ridiculous for being sad. Aidan was getting what he wanted. And Dean was getting Aidan. 

Still, his grip didn't loosen until sleep claimed him.

Aidan sensed it, of course, but he made no note of it. In silence he waited for Dean to fall asleep and pressed him a kiss to his forehead. 

"I'm truly blessed to be living this life by your side," he whispered, and wondered if mortal sleeping patterns would eventually come to him, too.

\- - - - - 

Returning to set was as if nothing had happened.

Or, not entirely, but aside from half a day explaining, apologizing and some more apologizing, there was little time left for other means of saying sorry.

Peter was mainly thankful that he didn't have to look for replacements—though he did give Dean a hard time for not having kept him posted. The others were mostly curious. It was actually Richard who couldn't let it go and insisted on buying everyone dinner and the first round that evening.

As soon as people stopped asking about what 'family business' exactly they had to go on for them to leave so suddenly, it was as if they'd never left. As if nothing had changed.

Though some things definitely had.

Aidan leaned his head on Dean's shoulder. Peter called "Cut!" for what had to be the twentieth time. He'd stopped falling asleep on Richard since their return, and now often borrowed Dean's shoulder for support.

"Mh, sit still, brother."

And Dean did, luxuriating in the warm, assuring weight of Aidan against him. When he was certain no one was watching, he leaned over and planted a kiss on Aidan's temple. The leather and fur of the costumes had quickly come to smell like home and happiness to him. He couldn't think of any place else he'd rather be than sitting up against a fake log with Aidan's long dark wig cascading over his ribcage.

Soon, however, Orlando came along, enticing Dean to come spar with him. He accepted without really wanting to leave.

Richard took a seat next to his on-screen nephew.

He'd been taciturn since they'd returned from the sidhe, letting others tell them how they wanted things and listening expressly to suggestions from Peter. It was easy for him to fall into the life of an actor again. Aidan's interest in the world of men, which had made him a guardian, had rubbed off until he took the life as seriously as his protégé.

So when he did speak up, quite solemnly, it startled Aidan.

"We don't need to be here, Lee and I," he said after a comfortable silence of minutes. "One look at him and it's obvious you need no protecting. Not from him."

Dean waved at the two of them from where he and Orlando were wrapping up their sword fight. When they finished, a few minutes later, he came to join Aidan and Richard.

"He gave me a run for my money," he quipped, breathless, "but I think I can take him."

Dean felt a fond affection for Richard, now that he knew with certainty he supported he and Aidan's relationship. "Oh man..." he noticed the serious look on both their faces. "What are you two talking about?"

"You, actually," Aidan spoke casually, knowing it would only make Dean's suspicion worse. He pulled him closer as if they were very close friends, and any bystander would have believed it to be so. Not so the rest of the cast—but thankfully most of them were mostly occupied with other things.

"Rich here says he doesn't need to worry about you being good to me," Aidan explained finally. "I'd say he sounds almost jealous."

To which Richard floundered and called out, "Why would I need to be jealous?"

"I'm sure you misunderstand his emotions, Aidan." Dean snuck a sly smile at his on-screen uncle. "Not having to spend so much time looking after and worrying about you gives Richard an incredible amount of free time. How _will_ you spend it, Rich?" he asked him knowingly, his own finger slipping under Kili's bracer to caress Aidan's wrist.

"I've got enough pastimes, if you're implying anything," Richard mumbled while he looked anywhere but at Dean.

"That's right," Aidan joined in, obliviously. "He's got a lot of books he still needs to read, and he plays a mean flute. You should listen to it some time. It can be a little, uh, _enchanting_ , but if you get too into it, I can take you home."

"I guess when I wondered how you'd spend your time, I was really wondering _who_ you'd spend it with," the blonde raised his eyebrows at Richard. "Aidan speaks often of your musical talents, Richard. I'm sorry I never got to hear you play." 

Dean reached for his towel, lifted the heavy curtain of gold hair off his neck and started wiping himself down. 

"We're not—" Richard started, "—it's not like that. You're implying Lee, aren't you? We're not like you two. He goes where he pleases, and it's true that we do spend time together, but it's..."

Tired of trying to explain himself and only managing to make a lot of babbling noise, Richard decided he could better avoid the subject. "If you want, I guess I can play for you some time."

Dean just smiled sympathetically. "If the past few months are anything to go by, it's clear I am no Casanova," he reminded Richard. "I just wanted to wish you luck in your relationship." He hoped he sounded sincere. "What did Aidan mean about your music being enchanting? Lulls people to sleep and whatnot?"

Aidan shrugged. "Makes you forget time. It can be quite the rapture, to hear him play. But he doesn't usually do it around people, do you Richard? And it's not really a relationship. More a mutual agreement. You know, like friends with benefits."

Richard nodded meekly, letting Aidan do the talking for him.

"So you see, Richard's free to see other people. Which he does, don't you Richard?" Judging from Richard's expression however, something of Aidan's explanation didn't exactly ring true.

"Aidan, you're embarrassing him," Dean scolded his friend. He didn't feel right causing Richard such discomfort, especially with all the support he'd shown him of late. "C'mon," he pulled Aidan towards a large fake log. "We still have 15 minutes. Let's take a little sit down."

"Oh, no," Richard immediately tried to keep them with him. "I'm used to worse, don't worry about it. I would never expect something with Lee to be anything like what you two have. You seem so in love. I mean," he laughed awkwardly, "how does that even feel?"

"Uhhh," Dean paused a moment. "Well, aside from the obvious physical sensations, which I'm sure you've felt," he felt himself blushing, "love feels like climbing under warm blankets on a cold night, or-or a thunderstorm that comes in and breaks up the pressure in the atmosphere. Sometimes," he went on, oblivious to Aidan and Richard's bemused stares, "it feels like when you're a kid and everything you discover is new, and big and colorful. It's your favorite book that you keep wanting to read over and over again, even though you know how it ends. It-it's like _that._ " he smiled, looking down at his feet.

Aidan too flushed, and he leaned a little further against Dean, hoping nobody would notice. "Well, that. And it's like coming home. Everything that happens, you want to share with that person. And they'll want to share it with you. Then there's this fluttering in your chest. Which," he explained Dean, "doesn't naturally happen among us. Just as something like thinking about that person constantly isn't."

"Right," Richard looked a little sad. "So that could never be Lee and I. Because he doesn't." "How do you know that?" Dean asked Richard. "That Lee doesn't think about you?"

Richard shrugged, though he was reluctant to respond.

When Aidan kept looking at him, he gave up and sighed. "It's not in our nature, is it?" Right at that moment, Lee chose to walk by and looked at them oddly, like he was wondering why Aidan and Dean were there, before walking on.

"Do you love him… beyond the physical?" Dean wondered, slipping his hand up under Aidan's hair to caress the nape of his neck. "If you do, you need to let him know." Once again Richard shrugged. "Probably not," he tried to downplay it. "And besides, he's been with others. It's not as if we're exclusive. Isn't that supposed to a prerequisite?" But they could tell that he wasn't as okay with it as he wanted it to appear.

"It should be, eventually. I know I couldn't bear the idea of Aidan being with anyone else," Dean confessed. "But you'd have to mutually agree that that's the kind of relationship you have. You might have to use the B-word."

"The B-word?" Richard asked cluelessly.

Aidan leaned into Dean. "We don't have boyfriends, Dean," he explained. "If Richard wants that, which I'm by now assuming, he'll have to tackle that problem differently."

"What I meant was," Dean put a hand on Richard's shoulder, "if you want boundaries— commitment—you might want to tell him that. Don't let the opportunity pass you by. If you want it, you'll have to be brave, swallow your pride, and tell him." He shrugged. "At least you will have said your peace."

"If it helps," Aidan offered with what he hoped was infectious optimism, "we can discourage him if we see him with someone else until you've said it. How about that?"

Richard chuckled with nervousness. "There's no way out of this now, is there?"

"Just be yourself, Richard," was Dean's advice. "He obviously likes you already. That's half the battle won."

"Someone likes you?"

They froze upon hearing the sound. Behind them, Lee frowned at them. Having heard half of the conversation since he thought they looked like they were plotting something without him—which was unacceptable—he'd turned back as soon as their attention moved back to the conversation.

"And you like him too?" What Lee meant to say was, _Then what was last night all about?_

" _Right now_ seems like a really good time to have that conversation, Richard," Dean smiled, interlacing his fingers with Aidan's and leading him away from the pair.

\- - - - - 

The days begin to run together as their relationship grew stronger. At last, Christmas came around. On the final day of shooting before the two week hiatus, Aidan and Dean finalized their plans for the holiday.

"I'm glad we came back, Aid," Dean told his lover as they rested between takes. "Glad you chose this. Chose _me._ "

"Nothing less," Aidan burrowed himself contently against Dean's shoulder. He ignored Lee prodding his side as he walked past, still as meddlesome but at least loosening the reins these days, and occasionally even smiling. Of course, only when he thought nobody was watching.

"So..." he started lazily, "I should get your mum a present for tomorrow, shouldn't I? It's the first time someone's taking me home and I don't really know how that goes. Is a present too much? Maybe just flowers?"

"She's a simple gal," Dean told him, raking his fingers through Aidan's wig. "Flowers would be perfect. But we can pick them up closer to home. It's a long drive in the hot sun. Oh, Aidan, you're going to love it... the views on the way home are spectacular. And I can't wait to get you into a bathing suit," he chuckled, squeezing Aidan's thigh.

"You'll hit it off great with my family. Dad's Irish, you know," he said, as if that solved everything. 

Heck, maybe it did.

Aidan checked that nobody was listening in, before he grinned, "Did you read the stories where my people were driven underground by those who remained above ground?" But he did not doubt that they were wonderful people, and he'd gotten a lot more comfortable around Dean now that he had a supply of berries whenever they went; spending the night there or being asked to kiss would be no problem. Although they did make him nauseous, as if he'd been struck with a hangover, the next morning, but that was well worth it. 

"I've read so much lore my head is likely to burst," Dean admitted. "Yet I still have a feeling that's only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to figuring out the mystery of Aidan Turner," he wrapped his arms around Aidan's chest and held him protectively. "Don't worry, love, Mum and Dad won't drive you away. They're so thrilled I've met someone. You have _no_ idea," he rolled his eyes. "My brother wants us to go to one of his comedy shows. Do you think you'd enjoy that?"

"Absolutely," Aidan nodded. He straightened when everyone got ready for the next shoot. Adam walked by and pulled a funny face that said 'don't lean on each other so much, you're making people gossip'. But, though officially no one knew, Aidan had no doubt that most people were fairly suspicious and understood that more might or might not be going on. "And you'll have to show me where you grew up, and show me pictures."

Hopping up, Aidan was by Richard's side as was expected for the shot quickly, but not without throwing Dean a smile. He was in love; there was no way around it.

Dean just stayed where he was and watched lovingly as Aidan interacted with everyone. His boyfriend was like the sun. Dean didn't have to be basking directly in Aidan's glow to feel its effects. Just because he had his answers, finally, didn't make the situation any less magical.

Adam extended a hand to help Dean to his feet. "Something tells me it's time for me to give up my dream of bedding you," he said bluntly, taking in Dean's starry-eyed expression. 

Dean was too flabbergasted to reply. Thankfully, at that moment, Graham strode past, winking at Adam. "Let's go, Ori," he inclined his head in the direction of the set.

"Nothing wrong with having dreams, Adam," Dean told his friend, as the mittened actor followed Graham's departure with new interest. "If there's one thing I've learned of late, it's that they really can come true."

He hefted his swords and joined Aidan under the bright lights.

_Ceann_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ceann - (Gaelic) The end of the journey


End file.
